


Ricochet

by frangipani



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Character Study, Close Quarters, F/M, General Trigger Warning, Grimdark, Psychological Thriller, Questionable decision-making, Rape Culture, Something that suspiciously stands for plot if you don't ponder it too much, UST, Undercover, Violence, borderline dubconny situations, did you know mara was an assassin, mentions of sex trafficking and kidnappings, not a hero's narrative, not the lighthearted adventure you're looking for, punching whitewashing in the face, space noir-ish, that escalated quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 141,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7733632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frangipani/pseuds/frangipani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen pirates. One stowaway. No survivors.</p><p> </p><p>The underbelly of the galaxy is no place for a fine upstanding Jedi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Krayt Dragon in a Nerf's Coat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jaded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaded/gifts).



> Timeline is shortly after TTT (about a month after). 
> 
> Do mind the tags this is grittier, harder fare than goes for this fandom (I mean like L/M fic in general, I know SW fic is like something else entirely). A large amount of grappling with triggery material has made it here (a look at the fringe, mentions of: the trafficking of sentient beings, rape, slavery, trauma, imperial atrocities), including instances of canon atypical violence, at times graphic. 
> 
> Individual chapters have warnings, but there might be a lot that sneaks in due to the subject matter. Canon might be family friendly, this fic is decidedly not.
> 
> In sum, read at your own risk. Or if you wish, contact me privately (my email is in my contact, my tumblr is @teagrl) with any specific concerns if you'd like a spoilery head's up for deciding whether to read or not.
> 
> Whitewashing here refers to ignoring Mara's past or retconning it.
> 
> Playlist for chapters 1-10 compiled [here](http://teagrl.tumblr.com/post/161430284147/music-to-crawl-through-vents-to). All of it found [here](http://teagrl.tumblr.com/post/165066456132/celinamarniss-ricochet-by-frangipani-fic-on) The things one does to keep their inspiration up. Thank you so much for the image Celina!

__  
__  
_I live my life in shackles but I'm borderline free_  
_I used to be blind and I still can't see_  
_And I won't get around to a change of mind_  
_As long as nobody breaks my stride_ [[x](https://youtu.be/ganQ5CFUh5M)]  


  


  


The ventilation shaft of the _Jackal_ was no more cramped than the other ventilation shafts Mara Jade had been in before. She stretched out with the Force to get a sense of the presences below, six all male, and --

Mara froze immediately and doubled her shields. One was Force sensitive. Mara felt unease spread through her. Strong, from the brief glimpse she’d got. Whoever the person was, now he knew she was there. 

Mara cursed under her breath as she went through a calming technique. Had she known she’d be up against a Force user she would have contacted Skywalker. As much as her skills had improved post Wayland, they were still paltry. She and Skywalker had tried to coordinate a training schedule, but between his committee meetings, then her committee meetings, it had turned into an annoying game of comlink tag. Finally, she’d thrown her hands up and stopped answering his comms, and shortly after, he'd gotten the hint and stopped contacting her altogether. What was the point?

Mara bit her lip moving back from the supply shaft and away from the pirates --away from the Force user, no one that strong was simply Force _sensitive_ \-- and refocused on her shields. Maybe ignoring Skywalker’s attempts to contact her hadn’t been the best decision. Nothing to be done now but hope the shielding would be enough.

In her distraction, her tools clanged hard against the shaft. Mara closed her eyes and stood still. The voices had died down. Not a good sign. She was tempted to reach out again, but didn’t dare. She set to make her way down, leaving behind her tools, she had others stashed elsewhere. 

Mara was almost at the end, she unholstered her holdout blaster carefully and pulled out the suppressor from a pocket of her utility belt, working it on the muzzle before reholstering the blaster. The fit was uncomfortable, but she'd have to live with it for the moment. She pushed the panel to the supply room, inching down to some crates carefully, only to end up pulled down by a hard grip at her ankle. She kicked instinctively with her other foot, and felt the toe of her boot connect with her assailant who let out a sharp grunt. He was shoved back by the impact and she landed in a crouch on one knee, her holdout blaster already in hand, finger already pulling the trigger -- until it yanked itself from her grip and went flying.

The Force user.

She ducked behind some crates, mentally filing his description and location in the room. Nondescript to the point of blandness, gray eyes, full beard...she turned around and held her breath, crouching down. Something didn’t feel right. 

It didn’t feel right _in her head_. Mara heard no movement. He was probably secure enough in his abilities to wait her out or he was doing something to her with the Force. Both galled her, and she clenched her teeth. The wrongness in her head took precedence. It was like a thin film over her perceptions, if she just _pushed_... the wrongness faded. 

Triumphant, she came back up, her hand going towards one of the vibroblades at her waist, thinking grimly, _alright, let’s play_ \-- and found herself staring into Skywalker’s surprised face. 

“Mara?” he whispered right as the pirates walked in blasters in hand.

\-- 

“What’s going on?” Bareth asked, four of the crew with him.

Luke was about to reply, but Mara did it for him.

“I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t just the tone, the mumbled words had a thick Outer Rim accent. She’d bent her shoulders and lowered her head, stepping away from the pirates. From Mara, now that he’d recognized her, all of it just seemed jarringly out of place. “I-I-I just wanted a ride to the Volteri system.”

The pirates laughed riotously.

“A stowaway?” Bareth smiled. His two front teeth were chipped and it was always an unpleasant sight. “We have a stowaway?”

“P-Please don’t hurt me.” There was a hiccup to the last that made Luke’s stomach turn despite knowing the whole thing to be a ruse. He found himself taking a step towards her, but was buffeted by warning quite the opposite of what was on display. _That_ was Mara. He felt himself relax a bit.

Not for long. “A spaceport mouse! How about that? Even mice have teeth though. Stonn, since you found her -- why don’t you make sure she doesn’t bite?” Bareth met Luke’s eyes and nodded towards Mara. “Frisk her.”

Luke approached slowly, sending vaguely soothing thoughts her way only to be rewarded with sound impatience. Before him, the raven-haired character Mara was playing went wide-eyed and kicked away in a way Luke knew was fake. His jaw still smarted from her earlier kick. 

“Stop dawdling. Kriff, you’d think you’ve never searched anyone before.”

Tamping down on his reluctance, Luke grasped Mara’s arm. She pulled away and he gently pulled her back. She blared disapproval, oddly enough, that whatever he was doing was _wrong_ , and the reproach through the Force was so strong it threatened to drown out the complaints of the crew. 

Luke gritted his teeth, delivered a clipped, “Be still,” and unceremoniously yanked off her jacket and undid her utility belt, dropping both on the floor. The pirates hooted at the discovery of the empty holdout holster. Luke made himself ignore them as he went through a methodical pat down that had been drilled into him ages ago, wrapping a hand around her upper arm and sliding it down, repeating the movement with the other, a cursory pass along her legs, running a hand down either side. He slid a finger along the inside of her pants, discovering two thick and wicked looking vibroblades in two interior sheaths fastened to the inside of the waistband of her pants. He set them both on top of the jacket and beside the belt.

“They always have teeth,” laughed one of them who went by Dunn, slightly younger but just as scarred as the rest of them.

Luke steeled himself, did a quick pass with the back of his hand along her front and said, “That’s it. She’s clean.”

It was a kind of irony that there was just as much disapproval coming from the crew as from Mara though the Force.

“That’s it? You don’t like women?” Bareth squinted at him.

Luke flashed him a cold look and shrugged. “I like ‘em fine. I don’t like an audience.”

“That so?” There was a manic gleam in his eyes. “Let’s be sure she’s clean. Strip her.”

Luke opened his mouth to object, and surreptitiously, Mara brought the heel of her foot on his boot, again blaring disapproval through the Force.

But she screeched, “No!” twisting away from him when he grimly peeled off her shirt. Hard to see this woman as Mara when she darted away awkwardly and tripped, landing on her back, when she crawled forward, forcing him to straddle her legs to get her boots and then her pants off. The wave of revulsion made his hands clumsy so the whole thing took twice as long. As it was, he latched himself to Mara’s irritation through the Force -- it was the only thing that made it tolerable.

The woman in front of him brought her arms around herself, her braid had loosened and her dark hair half-covered her face. She scooted into the wall once he was done and brought her knees up against her chest. She might even have been shaking, and the whole thing made Luke feel like complete slime, but Mara through the Force was aggravated as if the only problem with it was that it was _taking too much blasted time_. 

“This does it for you?” Luke asked Bareth with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. 

The crew laughed. 

“Thin, but not bad,” was Enif’s appraisal. Barrel shaped himself, he was in no position to be evaluating anyone, but self-awareness was not any of the pirates’ strong suit. To the woman--Mara, Luke told himself and it still didn’t fit-- Enif barked, “You got a name?”

Mara didn’t answer. She hid her face and Luke’s stomach turned some more.

“Kind of like a rugger ain’t she?” Dunn laughed, bringing up the small, fluffy rodents that Coruscati elite had started keeping as pets. “We should call her that.”

“Rugger.” Bareth bent down to look at her. “How do you like it, girl?”

She didn’t answer.

“So who gets her tonight?” the tallest one of them, Mahas, asked. 

Her head snapped up, but there was no surprise from Mara through the Force. Tension, but no fear. 

Luke swallowed down a brief burst of anger, related, but not immediately linked to the present situation. One thing was hearing about the sordid things that happened outside the bounds of law, witnessing it was another matter entirely. 

“Why the long face, Stonn?” Mahas' eyes raked over him with distaste. Of all the pirates, he seemed to harbor the most hostility to Luke.

“I found her,” Luke put in quickly. Mara’s feelings shifted in his direction. Anticipatory, waiting for his move. 

Bareth turned to him, considering. “He’s got a point.”

Mahas twisted his face into a sneer. “C’mon, this space ape’s also been with us for two days. We’re giving him a bonus now?”

A scruffy man his age with a deep scar that went down his cheek, snorted. “You frisked her like inspecting cargo, Stonn. Why don’t you leave the girl to someone who can use her right?” He leered at Mara, who backed even more against the wall drawing her knees even tighter into her chest. 

Mahas laughed. “Arten should get her.”

Her Force presence had gone silent. Concerned, Luke reached towards her getting...nothing. He strengthened his probe a bit more, an image of a locket emerged in his mind and, just as quickly, it vanished. She was shielding, but even in that image he still sensed no fear in her. Only...quiet resolve. Calculation, perhaps. It had been too fast to get much more detail.

He was sensing the pirates’ growing curiosity on him though. Luke scraped some imaginary dirt from a fingernail. “Tell you what, Arten, I’ll flip you for her.”

Arten scowled at him.

“Don’t tell me you’re still sore about all the credits I won from you yesterday.” Luke gave him a sidelong glance. “Don’t you carry a lucky coin? Let’s have it.”

Arten narrowed his eyes at him, but procured a coin from a pocket of his vest. He flipped it, was about to catch it, but a slight nudge through the Force, and he missed. The coin rolled on the floor and spun.

Luke met Arten’s eyes. “Can I call it already?”

“That’s the oddest--”

He made an impatient grunt as Dunn crouched to get it. A quick shift in Luke’s perception via the Force and he was staring down at the coin through Dunn’s eyes. 

“Heads,” he said, coming back to himself.

Luke's gaze returned to Mara. Her eyes were already on him, from under the fall of her hair, catlike and momentarily fascinated. Her curiosity washed over him, and that was something he hadn’t sensed from her before. He stifled an urge to grin thinking, _training_. She caught herself quickly and dropped her head, hiding her eyes again, curiosity changing to annoyance.

The pirate made a disgusted sound. “One of these days I’ll find out your trick, Stonn. What will you have her do? Take your clothes down to the laundry drop? Kriffin’ waste.”

Luke ignored him. Of all of the pirates, predictably it was Mahas’ hostility that took precedence, but there were no signs of danger. Not yet, anyway.

He went to get Mara’s holdout blaster as the pirates grumbled, then casually palmed the blades, the holster, and her belt. None of the pirates reacted, to his relief. Walking over to Mara, he jerked his chin up at her. “Up.”

More impatience from Mara greeted him. Luke steeled himself again, forcibly hauling her up with his free hand. Mara let out a decidedly un-Mara like squeak, and Luke pushed her out in front of him. She teetered a little on her feet.

“Unless you want to stay with these clowns...” he forced himself to say.

“My clothing.” Her voice was small and shaky.

Luke turned in the direction of the discarded clothing. Mara sent a very pointed warning, which he ignored in favor of making a show of getting only her boots.

The pirates chortled.

He held the boots out to her.

Mara blinked with a panicked confusion he'd never seen in her face. Through the Force, her disapproval had died down. "But..."

Luke pulled them back. "You want to go barefoot?"

"No," she mumbled. "No."

He dropped the boots right in front of her and she scrambled to get them on. 

"Shoulda made her ask nicely," Arten called behind him and he swallowed down the rise of anger.

"If I need your advice, I'll ask." He turned back to Mara whose face was still half hidden by her lowered head as she stood. "You done there?"

With an inward wince, he gave a her light shove, squarely in the middle of her back. "Move." The almost-tumble was a bit of fancy footwork he recognized from when she’d sparred against his remotes in Wayland. Luke released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, grasped her arm, and pulled her out of the room. 

\--

They had no sooner taken one step out of the supply room than Skywalker's hand fell from her and he took three steps away from her as if he'd just remembered she had some sort of contagious disease. His eyes though, kept seeking hers. They didn’t speak, but his presence in the Force was approaching intrusive as it went over her. Mara was not all that confident in her abilities to sort out emotions through the Force, but she was familiar enough with Skywalker's concern to recognize it. He was worried. 

But the answer was _not_ that lackluster performance. Mara fought the urge to slam a hand on her forehead in frustration as she closed the distance between them slightly. The pirates could still come out of the room, or someone else could happen upon them, and details were always what sold a cover.

What in the world was Skywalker, of all people, doing with the pirates of the _Jackal_ , anyway -- and masquerading as one of them, no less. This was nothing Mara had ever thought he’d get pulled into. 

“Who sent you?” she asked as soon as the door to his cabin had slid shut, quickly taking stock of the room. Even though, she'd stayed in her share of tight spaces, she couldn't help but be taken aback by the narrowness of the cabin. It had most likely been a small storeroom that had been converted to part of the crew quarters complete with a door a few feet away that Mara supposed led to a rudimentary ‘fresher. That brought it up to borderline luxury as far as pirates were concerned. The _Jackal_ might be the same class of bulk freighter as the _Wild Karrde_ , but its layout was far different. She'd studied the specs, of course, but it was impossible to know the extent of a ship's modifications until you were actually on it.

Skywalker's back was to her as he looked through some storage compartments above his bunk. “Nice to see you too, Mara,” he muttered. He’d left her weapons on top of the desk just a few scant feet from the bunk and she immediately went for them.

“Who?” This didn’t seem like the kind of thing a Jedi would get involved with. Last she heard Skywalker was playing Questions Three with various Senate committees trying to cobble together a suitable proposal to present to the New Republic’s Senate for a Jedi academy. It sounded time consuming and just about as much fun as programming a cleaning droid. She sat on the bunk to wrangle the interior sheaths of the vibroblades into two thigh holsters through a strap tucked within the sheath. 

Skywalker turned to her, tossing something her way and she dropped the sheaths on her lap to catch it. “NRI,” he answered. She looked at the object she’d caught. A shirt. His shirt. 

She knitted her brow, raising her eyes towards him.

It was impossible that there was color rising on his face. _This_ was who they sent on an undercover job? 

“You do know you’re only wearing underwear.”

Mara looked down and snorted. “But I didn’t know I was offending your delicate sensibilities.” Luke turned around as she pulled the shirt on. NRI must be in worse shape than Karrde thought. She strapped the blade holsters on, and fastened her forearm holster.

“What about you? Did Karrde send you?” 

“Who else?”

“Why?” he asked without any hesitation whatsoever. “Smuggler’s Alliance business?”

Mara leaned back on her forearms. “You first.”

Skywalker didn’t pause then either. “Intelligence thinks the gang is going to pick up a shipment of Lowickan firegems at some point this week,” he answered as if she’d asked him what he had for lunch. 

“Firegems.” She made a mental note to highlight that tidbit when she sent her report to Karrde. The chemical instability and excess radiation of the firegems made them convenient weapons to bring down anything from a snubfighter to a Mon Cal cruiser. “That’s serious alright.” She cocked her head, she had one side of the equation down, but the other.... “More serious than Jedi academy business?” A vague possibility flitted into her head. “Did you volunteer for this?” 

He looked away, but before he did she caught the shadow of a smile. 

“You did, didn’t you?” Mara came close to a laugh. “You were bored!”

“I wouldn’t say bored,” he corrected, coming over to sit beside her. “Just wanting to be of service.”

She flashed him a skeptical look. “Bored.”

His smile faded a little. “I thought we'd have settled on a training schedule by now.”

Mara sat up and spread her hands. “I tried.”

“You never contacted me again.” 

“Bad timing," she offered. "It was too complicated to schedule.”

“I rearranged my schedule.” There was something faintly accusing in his voice that she didn't like.

She waved a hand. “Later -- when things get less hectic.”

"You know, if you --"

"Later," she said firmly.

Skywalker sighed, finally realizing he'd get nothing more from her on the topic. “So are you looking for the firegems too?”

Mara shook her head. 

He waited. When she let the silence stretch he said, “You’re seriously not going to tell me? After I helped you back there?”

Mara put up a hand, narrowing her eyes. “Wait, wait. Helped me? The only reason I got caught was that you were here. Not to mention, all the times you nearly blew my cover. Seriously, Skywalker leave infiltration to the professionals.” He was looking dutifully chagrined. “And what was that mind trick? Creepy.”

“You shook it off pretty easily. It’s the first time I’ve tried it. The hair,” he gestured to the mussed black braid that streamed down her back.

“What about it?” Her hand went to it and she pulled off the tie to pull it into a bun.

“It’s weird.”

“You really know how to flatter a girl,” she retorted wryly.

“No. The hair and the behavior--”

“It’s called _acting_ ,” she leaned over to whisper.

Faint irritation crossed over his features. “It’s...convincing.”

The corner of her mouth tipped. She thought that was a probably a Skywalker thing, but, sure, she’d take it as a compliment. 

He was frowning at her. “You’re really not going to tell me why you’re here?”

She pushed herself off the bunk. “Where do you keep your tools?”

There was the slightest pause. “Left storage compartment.” He stood, walked over leaning beside her to get them, so close that his shoulder brushed hers. “Here.” He handed her a box. She took it to the bed, pulling out a screwdriver. She went to the small desk beside it, climbed on it to unscrew the panel of the vent.

“What are you doing?”

Mara didn’t spare him a look. “Going to get my stuff.”

“I’m coming with you.”

The final screws came loose and the panel dropped into one of her hands. "Why?" Mara asked, holding the screwdriver with her mouth as she sliding the panel down to the desk with both hands, dropping the screwdriver beside it.

“Two heads are better than one.”

“My head is more than enough.” She got on her tiptoes to look into the darkened shaft, thinking about the schematics she'd gone over.

“What if they catch you?”

She'd need a glow rod. “They're _not_ going to catch me in a ventilation shaft. You have any small glow rods?"

“They did last time.”

“No, _you_ did,” she replied with a pointed look back at him, her patience straining. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, Skywalker. What’s with the paranoia?” She threw him an incredulous look. “It’s an act. Not real. Get me a glow rod, will you?” She climbed down from the desk.

He didn’t reply, just looked at her with that vaguely disappointed expression before fishing around the box of tools for one and handing it to her. Mara blew out a breath. From the way he looked at her, she almost expected him to pull it away from her like he had with the boots -- unless she agreed to have him come along -- but he didn't. Her hand closed around the light stick, his let go, and it was hers.

That should have been the end of that, but she found herself reevaluating. Skywalker had proven his use in a pinch, even if he _was_ the worst actor she’d ever seen. Not that she seriously thought she'd need him for anything.

She wasn't going to waste time overthinking it. “Fine," she grunted, getting up on the desk again. "They better not come looking for you.” 

"They won’t. My next shift doesn’t start for a bit over an hour. You’re not going that far, are you?"

“No.” Mara pulled up the shirt to stick the glow rod through the side of one of the thigh holsters, smirking at how he looked everywhere but at her. She got back on the desk, lifting and dragging herself up into the vent in one arduous pull, continuing to climb up with the same determination. She crawled up further into the shaft, breathing a bit hard at the exertion, feeling the burn in her arms and waited for Skywalker. She was definitely out of practice, regardless how much she'd tried to get back up to speed after Wayland. By contrast, it took Skywalker no time at all and he seemed more relaxed than anyone should after the climb.

"Did you use the Force?" she asked, pulling out the glow rod and flicking it on.

He looked at her like she’d asked something obvious. “Didn’t you?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Let’s go. Try not to enjoy the view too much.” It was really too bad it was too dark to see his expression, but there was definitely _something_ she was getting through the Force. She grinned. So that's what embarrassment felt like. 

\--

Luke had been in more uncomfortable situations that he could count, but crawling across a ventilation shaft looking up at Mara Jade’s underwear-clad posterior the entire time took the cake as the most...he even lacked the word, strangest? No. Confounding? Not that either. Bizarre? Maybe.

Mara herself had not one trace of self consciousness about the whole thing. Her amusement was palpable enough to begin a slow grate at him.

Luke forced his thoughts back to the metal under his hands and knees, senses alert to the crew of the ship, they were mostly around the crew lounge areas. He gathered the room they were heading towards was at the end of the ship so they’d be clear. 

He looked up again, seeing the shadows play across the back of her thigh. He should be thinking of how she’d refused to tell him why she was here. He should be thinking that she hadn’t contacted him after he had painstakingly fixed things so he could train her. He should not be thinking about her skin. He was definitely not thinking about her skin. Mara was a friend -- and not just any friend for that matter -- a friend with a loaded past. 

“We’re almost there,” she announced.

A different light from the glow rod was up ahead and he saw Mara jump down to a shelf. He followed, realizing they were in one of the supply rooms. Mara went to a bag under one of the storage compartments, pulled out a satchel. 

“When did you join them?” she asked, undoing the forearm holster. Her hand went to pulling his shirt off and he immediately turned away. He didn’t turn back towards her until he heard her zip up the flightsuit.

“A couple of days ago.”

“At Manaan?" She restrapped the forearm holster and slipped on a jacked she'd pulled out from the bag. "For hire? NRI give you the contact?”

He nodded. “That’s where you hitched a ride too, no?” He wasn’t sure what all the subterfuge was about. “You’re really not going to tell me why you’re here?”

Mara was packing some tools, her datapad and the lightsaber from the bag into the satchel. Seeing the lightsaber -- hers now -- brought a smile to his face. Her eyes darted towards him, discomfort flashing and she slammed the satchel closed.

She drew out one last object that she tossed his way.

Luke’s hand closed around it automatically -- a hololocket. He opened it and a girl of maybe twenty took form, staring back with a bright smile.

“Meyna Vir. Daughter of Xellosan Vir.”

“The Baron.” Luke closed the locket. The name was familiar through Leia and her dealings with the Coruscanti upper class. He handed it back to Mara.

“Meyna was kidnapped by the gang.” She put the locket away into her satchel. “Vir contacted Karrde to find out what happened to her after he wasn’t contacted about a ransom. They go way back and he's a key contact, so Karrde called in a couple of favors. Turns out Deimos knows all the procurers of the finer things.”

Luke gazed at her, dread seeping into him. “The crime lord?”

Mara nodded. “Hostage-taking and flesh trade is one of the specialties of the _Jackal’s_ crew. Deimos brokers any women they get.” Her mouth formed a thin line. “Nothing anyone can track down, of course.” She paused, a puzzled look on her face. “NRI didn’t brief you about it?”

He shook his head. “The files only mentioned weapons smuggling. And Meyna?” 

“Deimos claims never seeing her.”

Luke’s face fell. “Is that a lie? Could it be?”

“It’s been confirmed by several people in his organization close to him. Meyna was never sighted there. The last anyone knew she’d been picked up by this crew, but she wasn't seen after.”

“So Karrde sent you to find her.”

Mara shook her head. “No. I’m here to find out what happened. Meyna has been missing for almost a month.” She slung the satchel across one shoulder and made her way back to the shelf to climb up again. “She’s probably dead.”


	2. Solid Fuels

_I'll play your games_  
_If you play out in the fast lane_  
_Learn to jump into the road_  
_And hope to save a little lost face_  
_And maybe then you wouldn't get so sick of me_ [[x](https://youtu.be/FjC8TrROhNU)]  
__  


  


  


Skywalker hadn’t taken the news well. He’d gone taciturn. His Force presence radiated something Mara couldn’t pin down. Sadness? Dread? Something like that. 

Maybe he was regretting being sent, which was just what happened with do-gooders in this sort of thing. This was precisely the reason people like Skywalker should be back in their bright and airy rooms talking about their plans for the future, not here.

“So Stonn’s your alias,” Mara said once they were back at his cabin, wanting to take his mind off the unpleasantness, not quite knowing why. What was it to her if Skywalker was moping over some dead rich girl he'd never met?

“You didn’t really hitch a ride at Manaan, did you?” he asked suddenly. “I would have felt you onboard two days ago if you had. So you must have gotten on some other way.”

The question caught Mara off guard. She thought for sure he would have been too distracted by Meyna to see the error of his assumption. She brushed the question aside. She could be all business too. She excelled at that, in fact. “Where did they tell you they were heading?” 

“How’d you get on?”

She studied him briefly. That was the problem with Skywalker, he always operated under the assumption that everyone was just as _reasonable_ as he was, if given the chance. 

“That,” she extended an index finger. “Is a trade secret.”

He frowned at her. “You’re being cagey. Why?”

She laughed. “Why shouldn’t I be? We’re on different jobs. This information isn’t even mine to give. I’ve told you too much already -- you don’t have to tell me anything either. In fact,” she added against her better judgement. “NRI would probably not want you to.” 

He finally caught on and blushed. “We’re working for the same side.”

“Long term? Sure. But the devil’s in the details. Sometimes Karrde’s short term goals align with the New Republic. Sometimes they don't.”

"What happened to him being a worse idealist than me?"

"There was a 'sometimes' right in front of that too, if you remember."

Luke considered her answer. Mara got the sense he didn’t like it, but accepted it. “We’re going to Lothal. I don’t know after. They keep the crew in the dark, mostly, or at least those like me.”

“Newcomers.” Mara opened her pouch and took out her datapad.

He nodded. “They’ve kept me --well, anyone not in the inner circle -- away from some of the cargo. I’ve been meaning to take a look, but haven’t yet found a moment. I’m thinking after we make our stop. The files said they would pick the firegems up and I don't think they could have gotten them at Manaan. I'm not sure they have them yet.”

Mara scanned her datapad for any updated information, going over to sit on the bunk. NRI files seemed useless, but he was probably right. Manaan had too much security for that kind of transfer. “Not a bad idea to look at Lothal. Most of the crew will probably blow off to the nearest cantina. If you’re lucky, they might not even be sober by the time they slither back on the ship. It’s twelve of them, right?” She pulled up another file, looking at the background they had on Lothal even though she was already familiar with it. This wouldn't be the first job to take her there.

Skywalker’s comlink started sounding and he went to answer it. “They want me over at the cargo hold,” he announced after closing the line.

She made a noncommittal sound, not bothering to look up from the document. Why was he even telling her?

“What will you do?”

Mara raised her head at that. Now was as good as time as any to make their positions clear. “It’s not really any of your business, now is it?”

He tilted his head. “Well, I’m part of your cover now.” 

“Whenever we’re in front of them. But I don’t anticipate being in front of them all that much.”

That earned her a quizzical look. “Now that they know you’re here--”

“If it’s your cover, you’re worried about, don’t sweat it -- we’ll play it off like I made a run for it as soon as we get to Lothal.” She went back to her datapad, giving her words an air of finality. “You just focus on your own job.”

\--

“Took you long enough,” Strilath, one of the gunners, said as Luke stepped out of the turbolift. “We'll be passing the Monsua Nebula later tonight, so we're probably hitting some bumps. The boss wants to make sure everything is tight.”

Luke didn’t acknowledge the scolding, tagging along behind the heavy-set pirate. “What are we locking down anyway?”

“Some Norsam DR-X55 lift mines, some Keffer survival pods, some GTU power armor suits,” Strilath listed other weapons. “How was she anyway?” 

“What?” Luke turned to him.

The pirate looked at him scornfully. “The girl.” He tsked. “Dunn said we got a stowaway and you won her. Must not have been any good.”

Luke made himself shrug. An odd mess of emotions welled up, anger certainly, disgust, and then something else he didn’t want to navigate right now. “She was all right.”

“Well," Strilath said matter of factly. "We’ll all get a taste soon enough.”

His head snapped up and he felt the same anger he'd felt in the supply room. To prey on the vulnerable like that...

“A stowaway’s gotta pay for the trip somehow.” Strilath chuckled. “Shame there’s only one. Usually when we get girls, we get a lot of of them.”

What Mara told him made alarm bells blare in his head and he pushed the anger aside to focus on the matter at hand. “We get girls?”

Strilath waved a hand. “Forget I said anything.”

“When was the last time?”

Something about his tone must have struck the crewmember because he looked at him for a long tense moment. Then he laughed. “Wouldn't you like to know. C'mon, we have work to do.”

\--

Mara read the files on Lothal several times, went over the crew background and ship specs once more for good measure. Consulting her chrono, she decided the crew was probably having dinner. She could probably start making her way to the aft cargo hold.

The trip there went without incident and she spent the rest of the ship's night cycle rummaging around the cargo hold until her chrono told her that she was fast approaching the end of it. She’d learned a long time ago that pirates rarely followed a military system, choosing to follow instead a day cycle, letting most of the crew sleep through the night. Mara had exploited this to her advantage before and she’d continue to exploit it now.

Mara gazed out at the masses of crates stacked high around the cavernous room. This was the primary storage area, behind it was the section that housed the conveyor system that transported the large crates for stacking, the two escape pods at the starboard and port sides. The docking bay with its two Headhunters was behind that. Nothing she'd seen thus far pointed either to Meyna or the firegems. She'd have to come back several more times to keep looking. That was fine, she'd expected that.

She didn't have to go back to Skywalker's cabin. Certainly, she could have gotten her satchel and hidden herself away in the cargo holds as she had so many times before. She’d have been closer to the area she wanted to continue to explore -- but she wasn’t eighteen anymore and the idea of being able to sonic the day’s grime off and sleeping on the floor of a cabin over that of a rank cargo hold held a certain appeal. It wasn't going soft, she told herself, it was being _practical_. Hopefully, she and Skywalker's differing schedules would keep their interactions to a minimum so she could work in peace.

She made her way back, jumped down to Skywalker’s desk from the ventilation shaft, keeping her movements silent and the glow rod on its dimmest setting as she dug around for her extra flightsuit. He lay on his stomach, out cold, not so much as stirring as she walked towards the ‘fresher. He was still in the same position when she emerged and she shook her head at him. Some things hadn’t changed at all. Still hard to believe that NRI thought it’d be a good idea to leave this to him. It had all the finesse of using a power saw to cut a fuel line. 

Mara set her alarm, lay down on the floor, and willed herself not to think of dead girls.

\--

Luke blinked awake, something twinging at him through the Force, not alarm...just…

He wasn’t alone.

Rubbing at his eyes in the darkened cabin, he sat up, noticing a figure on the floor maybe a couple of feet from the bed. Mara. He had returned to his cabin to find her and her things gone and tried not to think too hard of whether she’d come back or not. Looking at her, he couldn’t help but feel a sudden lightness.

When had she come back? He looked in the chrono's general direction. He was planning on getting up anyway to go through some meditation, she may as well sleep on an actual bed. 

Luke slid off the bunk and crouched by her. He groggily reached towards her shoulder.

Later on, he would think he should have probably called her name before he touched her. He’d no longer managed to tap her shoulder than she inhaled quickly, and shifted in an angle, her right arm dashing out, hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling hard across her body. Alarm seeped in through the Force, but too late. He was not in a stable enough position in the first place and fell heavily against her and over his arm. With the speed of a move practiced enough to be instinct, her right foot lifted to brace against his hip as her left leg hooked over his shoulder and around his neck. She reached up and yanked her foot down by the shin, trapping his neck against his extended arm with her thigh, tight as a noose, making stars swim in his vision, both of her hands now at the back of his head pulling it _hard_ against her stomach. 

He attempted to pull away from the hold, gasping out her name, but in his sprawled position his free hand had no leverage, it took a few precious seconds for his oxygen deprived brain to figure out that none of that was going to work, and there was dark creeping at the edge of his vision as he stretched out to her with the Force, hoping she wasn't too far into autopilot to sense it.

The pressure around his throat released.

“Skywalker!” Mara snarled, scrambling away while he gulped air in heaving breaths. “Never surprise me like that!"

“Wanted to...” he managed to gasp once he could speak. “Offer...my bunk.”

She went for the lights, high color on her face from the exertion and glared at him. “I was fine where I was.”

“I see that,” he rasped. That couldn’t have taken more than a minute. Luke rubbed at his neck with a wince as he padded over for a change of clothes, and then made his way to the ‘fresher, trying not to think too hard about the kind of training that could result in those kinds of brutal reflexes. At least she hadn't been sleeping sitting with a blaster on her lap. That was of slightly less comfort than it should have been.

“Next time you even _think_ about surprising me awake," she was snapping, but he felt a bit of embarrassment underneath, "Stay far enough that I can hurl my datapad at you. I went through enough trouble not killing you to end up doing it by accident.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he called back dryly.

As Luke dressed, he thought back to Strilath. He could keep it to himself -- it was next to nothing as far as information went -- but it didn’t seem right. Not that he didn’t feel put off by Mara’s reticence -- it wasn’t even practical. He had yet to come across a situation which wouldn’t be more easily solved through combined efforts, and he’d thought Mara would know that by now. Even if the job she was on required discretion, _he_ wasn’t about to broadcast Karrde’s business. Mara should know that too. 

He went over to pick up his jacket. Maybe it was a matter of waiting Mara out. She always came around when it counted. “They mentioned getting women as cargo yesterday.” 

Mara was still on the floor, typing up something on her datapad and looked up. “Did you get a date? Or a general timeline?”

“No.”

Before she could ask anything more, his comlink sounded. He went for it, Mara shimmying past him to the ‘fresher, her arm brushing against his, and the leftover adrenaline was to blame for the way his arm tingled where it came into contact with hers. He should get on with his meditation.

Luke turned his attention to the comm. “Stonn.”

“Get your choobies to the lounge, loverboy, the boss wants to fill us in about the unloading. Wants to see Rugger too, so bring her along.”

Before Luke could object the crewmember closed the line. His insides churned. He didn’t want to think it was a premonition.

He looked up to find Mara staring at him arms crossed as she leaned against the side of the ‘fresher, black hair a tousled mass around her face. An errant thought popped into his head, _extremely_ unwelcome given the seriousness of the situation. 

He much preferred her as a redhead.

“What’s going on?”

Luke swallowed. “They want me to bring you to the crew lounge.”

Mara nodded. Her hand went to the zipper of her flightsuit

“What are you doing?” He turned around automatically.

“Changing into something more comfortable," she said snidely. "What do you think? Won't they wonder where I got the clothes?”

Luke winced, the anxiety mounting. The way the day was going he could have really used the morning’s meditation.

“They’re pirates and flesh peddlers,” Mara continued. “And you’re playing one of them. So buckle down and play your part, farm boy, or both of us will have nothing to show for the aggravation.”

He turned back to her, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall behind her just over her nearly bare shoulder. “It’s just--”

Mara was widening her eyes in mock-horror as she went for the boots. "Awful for someone of your virtue and moral standing, I know.”

“You make everything sound wrong.” He shook his head at her, and he grabbed another one of his shirts. “Just put this on.” He held it out to her.

She scowled at him. “Don’t be an idiot, Skywalker, they’re just going to make me take it off.”

“Then put it on _for now_ ,” he found himself snapping at her. Why did she have to make everything more difficult?

Her eyes narrowed and she yanked it from his hands, slipping it on. “I’ve been playing weepy marigold since before you left that dustbin you called home. Just read me with the Force like you did last time if it bothers you that much.”

He sighed, still annoyed by her cavalier attitude. She offered her arm and he clasped it just above the elbow. Almost immediately, she made a sound of disapproval. 

“What now?” 

“Like you mean it, Skywalker,” she shot back.

He tightened his grip on her arm. 

“Better,” she bit off as he pulled her along. The transformation itself was uncanny. It seemed like with every step towards the galley, the arm slackened more, Mara’s shoulders slumping, her head bowing down until her hair covered her eyes. Her breathing too seemed different, loud like someone attempting to reign in their fear. In the Force, Mara’s demeanor was calm with nothing save a sharpness of preparatory anticipation.

They’d just gotten to the doors when he felt Mara touch his hand. He looked down at her, and she didn’t quite smile, but her eyes had a distinctly challenging edge.

“Showtime,” she mouthed.

The door slid open and she did the same half stumble as last time, posture back to that of her role.

The pirates greeted them with hoots and yells. 

He tipped a corner of his mouth up at the clamor. The seating area was set up in a wide circle around a large table with a holoprojector unit, smaller chairs and tables scattered throughout, an ancient-looking caf dispenser at the far end. “Shut up, all of you,” Luke growled at them, picking a seat in the main circular area, nearest to the exit, and hauling Mara over to his lap. Mara let out a tiny yelp as her weight dropped on him.

He was aware of the pirate’s eyes on him as he positioned her far too close, close enough that her neck was scant inches from him, close enough he could smell the soap she’d used for her shower mingled with subtle earthier smell of her skin. She kept her head bowed forward, and squirmed, but her approval rang like a clear note through the Force.

The pirate next to him, a bald, stocky human who went by the name of Kruk put a hand under her chin and lifted up her face roughly.

The movement had been too fast to intervene, Kruk’s face displayed mild surprise as he peered into her face, and a brief metallic flash of anger through the Force was all he got from Mara. She betrayed none of that to Kruk, because all he said was, “She behaves, huh?”

“What?” Luke was about to push the pirate’s hand away, but Mara sent a shrill warning and before he could act, she'd pulled away from the pirate’s grasp, hiding her face in Luke’s shirt like she wanted to burrow herself into it, and that, despite the onlookers, was doing strange things to his stomach that had nothing to do with the acting. He wanted to slide a hand along the curve of her shoulder -- and Luke promptly took that thought and _shoved_ it all the way to the back of his mind the furthest it could go.

“Looks like she would be one of the nicer ones,” the pirate continued.

Through the Force, Luke sensed Mara prompting something, but he couldn’t figure out what. Then he felt her elbow digging into his side and instinctively pushed the elbow away. Mara took the movement as impetus to launch herself off, landing in a prone position on the floor, giving the impression that he’d shoved her clean off. He caught himself almost apologizing and reaching to help her up.

Instead, he forced his eyes off Mara and towards the pirate. “Clingy like a bantha buster is the only thing.” He held his breath, Mara’s approval stayed steady.

Kruk nodded. “Sometimes you gotta put them in their place anyway.” His eyes roved over Mara’s sprawled figure on the floor in a way that set Luke’s teeth on edge. After weighing the risks, and contrary to her warnings through the Force, he wrenched her up and deposited her again on his lap, unable to tolerate leaving her like that. Sending out his sense across the room, menace was everywhere and he felt his jaw tighten. 

Another one of the pirates, another gunner, Galen, said, “We playing for who gets her tonight, or what?”

“Sabacc?” Kruk asked.

“Takes too long,” Strilath put in from the other side of the room. “Dice.”

“Well, there’s eleven of us. Pick your numbers.”

They went around the room, the pirates naming their numbers. Luke was just telling himself it would be just as easy as last time when he realized they’d skipped him. 

“Hey!” he objected over Mara’s growing alarm. “What about me?”

The pirates laughed. 

“You already had her, Stonn,” Mahas smiled widely. “If you’re that hard up, go pay for a professional once we get to Lothal. We'll be there in a couple of hours.”

Mara’s warning through the Force got sharper.

“Thought you said she was just alright?” Strilath put in. “Holding out on us?”

Her warning was an unpleasant addition to his growing anxiety. It stayed like that, killing any hope of concentration. Then suddenly it shifted, vanished, leaving a tight calm, easy confidence. Mara’s, it dawned on him, and Luke probed further, there were little bounds to it. He found himself relaxing unconsciously, that is, until he realized she was soothing him. 

He shouldn’t need it. Embarrassment skittered up his spine.

The captain walked in, a box in hand, at that moment and the pirates quieted.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re playing for Rugger,” Bareth announced. “Stonn wanted her again.”

The captain laughed, shaking his head at Luke. “That’s not how it’s done. You can’t be greedy if you want to fit in a little outfit like ours.”

Recentered, Luke made himself nod. “Sorry, boss.” 

“Well, hurry up, morons. We have important matters to discuss.” The captain made an impatient gesture. 

Galen pulled out a control for some holodice. The dice skittered across the air as if it were the ground, before coming to a stop.

“Who’s eight?” he called amid the boos and moans of the room.

“That was you, wasn’t it, Arten?” another one of the pirates called out. 

“It is, huh.” He stood from where he had been sitting and came to stand in front of Luke, his eyes raking over Mara who kept her head lowered.

“She’s not much, but she’s fre-- “

“Not yours,” Luke interrupted sharply, tightening the arm he had wrapped around Mara’s waist and pulling her flush against him. Mara’s warning was back, harsh as ever, although she sat on his lap like a marionette with snapped strings, and he continued casually, “Until tonight, so sit down, Arten.”

Arten’s eyes flicked over Luke. “Awfully jumpy, Stonn.”

He met the pirate’s eyes cooly. “Don’t be rude now.” 

Disguise aside, Luke didn’t think any of the pirates were easily suggestible, but he felt perfectly capable of posturing just as well as any of them. He lifted his chin at Arten. “Sit,” he enunciated slowly. “Down.”

Arten stared down at him for a long moment. Luke stared right back.

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Bareth interrupted, coming over to place a hand on Arten’s shoulder and gently pulling him back. 

“Keep that up,” the captain intervened. “And I’ll throw her out the airlock myself. I have enough--”

The rest was lost to a blast of rage, that he had to close his eyes and quickly breathe through. When he finally dispelled it, he realized Mara’s hand was at the top of the wrist of his loose arm, not wrapped around it just _there_ , the lightest touch. A quick check on her and she was as steady as ever.

The captain launched into a briefing of what they’d find in Lothal and the distribution of duties that Luke barely heard. When the captain finished, Luke held the hope that the crew would be dismissed, but the captain gestured to the box he’d brought in.

“You all don’t deserve Hutt's spit bucket, but as long as we have a guest...”

Luke felt himself tense while the captain opened a crate and pulled out streaming blue fabric. A dress. There was more yelling from the crew.

“She’s a bit underdressed,” the captain explained, his eyes sliding over Mara, who cowered back into Luke’s chest.

Luke felt her prompting again, persistent as a drumbeat in his awareness, extremely irritated at his hesitation. He knew what she was prompting for and lobbed the annoyance back at her because he was _not_ faking throwing her on the floor again. Mara dug her elbow into his side hard enough that he had to shift away from her, the arm around her waist loosening. That was all the opening she needed to toss herself down, all the while stridently blaring out reproach.

Luke clenched his jaw and made a show of looking her over. “Looks fine to me.”

“You might be simpler than most. Girl, come here. What do they call you? Rugger?” The captain let out a guffaw. “Stang, you're all a bunch of gamorreans.” He pointed to her and beckoned with a finger.

Mara sat up and shook her head violently, wrapping her arms around herself.

Luke just knew that if he didn’t some thug would and things could spiral dangerously from there, so he took her arm and lifted her up. Mara tried to pull from his grasp with a whimper, and he dragged her forward to the captain. This was the _last time_ he was doing a mission for NRI.

The captain turned to Mara and gestured to the dress. “Put this on.”

She shook her head. 

Gritting his teeth, Luke reached for her.

“No,” the captain said. “Let her do it. Girl, I’m only going to say this once. Put on the dress.”

Mara scrunched up her face, pallid look of fear battling shame across her face as she pulled off the shirt. Covering her underwear clad form haphazardly to the hooting of the pirates, she reached for the dress.

Luke wasn’t sure what was worse, the revulsion that he felt at his throat or the anger that wound itself at his chest, locking every single one of his muscles.

There were only twelve and he had the lightsaber tucked away in the interior pocket of his jacket -- 

Luke blinked at the captain addressing him. “You okay, Stonn?”

Mara's alarm had been ratcheting up to something with the quality of screaming through the Force and he’d been wincing without realizing it.

“Headache.” 

Now that Mara had his attention, the stridency eased to a pull. She was drawing him into her mind, he realized just before the scene shifted and the captain was just a few paces away. That in itself was not that surprising. He thought she was simply showing him something. Then the only way he could describe it was that her Force presence _locked on_ leaving him with a kind of double vision. 

Only an old familiarity prevented him from struggling against it. The last time Luke had felt something like that…

Dagobah. A training bond. 

But this was not that. Or rather, it was a much, much rougher version of it. Clumsier -- there were a few gaps, jagged edges that he found himself unconsciously smoothing out, here and there.

Luke spared a bit of wonder at the fit that they’d managed. How could someone as relatively untrained in the Force as Mara wrangle a training bond? He’d never made one.

She had picked up on his appraisal and didn’t much like it. He sensed she didn’t mean to make the bond, and found it more than a bit uncomfortable -- but no time to dwell on that, she was prodding him back into the situation as well. He blinked off the double vision, adjusting his awareness of her to something more workable, encouraging her to mimic it, which she did with surprising ease.

When she went to grab the dress, it was as if another layer had revealed itself to him. It was more than reading her feelings, Luke could easily follow their ebb and flow. One thing was knowing she was acting, sensing her true state underneath, another was seeing the minute changes that showed just how deep the calculation went. It was yet another level of distance from the show in front of them. And it _was_ a complex performance, down to the angle of her head and the clumsy way she pulled the dress over herself.

The dress consisted of a lace bodice with a low neckline and satin skirt. To Mara, the fabric was cheap and tacky, the silhouette it made was sloppy -- the dress really was to the type of taste expected from bottom-feeding scum-sucking parasites in this nowhere corner of the galaxy. She left her bra on, knowing full well they’d ask her to take it off. 

And just as she anticipated, the captain grimaced. “Take that kriffin’ thing off.” He gestured to the offending garment. “Have you ever worn a dress before?”

“No.” The word was mumbled, barely audible. She made her hand shake as she undid it and pulled it out of the dress. Afterwards, she stood, carefully slumping her shoulders, a kind of concave angle to her upper body that did her no favors. She looked thin and plain, even with the risque dress. It might as well be a hospital gown. Luke shouldn’t have been surprised at how intricate the performance was, but he was, regardless. Mara always made everything look so effortless. 

Mara's Force presence brightened for an instant. She immediately tried to snuff out the feeling, but it was like putting a sheet over a glow lamp only to have the illumination soak through. Luke hadn’t set out to pay her a compliment, however indirectly, but it was true, just as she didn’t expect to be so pleased to receive it. He lowered his gaze down to his boots, throwing all of his effort to keeping the grin off his face as he witnessed Mara inwardly careen and smack right into self consciousness, appalled at the travesty of having been caught _caring_.

“What do you think? Shame we have no shoes to go with it. Her boots will have to do.”

Pulling himself back to the situation, Luke blurted out, “Looked better in my shirt.” 

The pirates laughed loudly. Mara approved.

“Are the clothes from last time or…” one of them trailed off

This caught Mara’s attention.

“Yeah, we have another shipment," the captain said cryptically. "As for you...” The captain's eyes settled on Mara. “It’d be a shame to give you this dress and have you only wear it in the cabins.” He whipped out a pair of stun cuffs. Luke’s tension began to mount anew.

The captain clipped the stun cuffs around her wrists and one of them to a leg of the table at the center of the room. “This way it can be enjoyed by all.”

“Boss,” Luke ventured. Mara thought just by speaking on her behalf he’d make things worse, but he still had to make some attempt. She wasn’t going to get her own job done shackled up for hours either. “She’s mine until tonight.”

The captain laughed. “I suppose that is to be respected. But we just mean to look at the rugger. You can come get her once your shift is done. We all know the rules, right?” The captain looked at his crew sharply. 

Luke nodded slowly, trying to appear satisfied, and turned, walking back to the end of the room under the pretense of getting himself a cup of caf. He still didn't like how the rest of the crew stared at her, but he could put that aside for the time being. Instead, he followed Mara’s train of thought as she zipped through various alternatives for escape, the foremost being the magnetic strip she had concealed in her hair. She just had to reach for it, no mean feat with her hands cuffed behind her.

Luke bit back another grin. Training would make that so much easier.

Her annoyance turned on him at what Mara perceived to be a nag.

Not a nag. Luke went to get his caf. He took one sip and grimaced at the stale taste. 

It was just that it wasn't all that hard to get out of stun cuffs if you had the Force.

And through the bond, Mara’s curiosity _sparked_.


	3. Liquid Fuels

_I been seeking some thrills_  
_I been wanting one more_  
_Then I wanted like four_  
_I been having some guilt_  
_I been feeling so blessed_  
_But stressed all day_ [[x](https://youtu.be/Y1eZu1rNKVI)]  


  


  


Mara didn’t have to tolerate the leering for long. As the intercom announced that The _Jackal_ was nearing Lothal, the pirates left to man their stations, leaving her alone in the galley.

As alone as she could be now. Skywalker was still there somewhere at the edge of her perceptions. Mara had no idea what she’d done to create that connection between them, she wasn’t even sure she could do it again. All she knew was that he’d been angrier than she’d ever felt him, and suddenly it had been paramount that he’d stop. Certainly because their covers were at risk. Unbidden, the expression on his face after C’baoth had sent that catwalk down on his sister flitted into her mind, and no, that was not it, but she wasn’t about to let her mind meander. 

Mara turned to the connection between them, examining it. She could easily access his sense impressions (the cold metal of the gyrostabilizer he’d been tweaking) some of his feelings (concern for her, wariness of the crew around him, preoccupation over the crew’s upcoming ventures, disgust at their activities), all immediate enough to be clearer than they would otherwise. The rest...she sent out a warning out of courtesy before probing gingerly, and was heartened at finding Skywalker’s shields just after those immediate perceptions. If she couldn’t move past a certain mental terrain, then neither could he. Whatever this connection was, it tended towards wide rather than deep. A training bond, was it? It wasn’t so bad.

All the same, she couldn’t have him all over her like engine grease. Mara concentrated on the edges the same way she had before, but instead of a pull, she tried for the opposite -- not all that different from when she’d stripped the Force illusion from her perceptions. His protests surfaced just as she _wrenched_ the connection loose, a brief but sharp stab of pain right behind her right eye and the link was gone.

Mara blinked out some odd disorientation and smiled. That hadn’t been bad either. The headache was already fading. 

Mara wasn’t intending to be back at all as far as the pirates were concerned, so she threw her focus on the cuffs next, working through the various memories Skywalker had taken her through. 

She just needed to trigger the pulse lock point. Mara closed her eyes drawing the Force to her. That was fine, she had it, now to guide it to where--

It winked out.

Mara cursed, and settled to do it again. Basics were basics. You couldn’t use the Force without some sort of focus. A couple of deep breaths.

Draw. Hold.

It petered off.

She gritted her teeth. She didn’t have time to be trying again and again. She pulled experimentally on the cuffs trying to lift her hands up to her hair where the magnetic strip was buried. She angled herself awkwardly with no success. Maybe she could use the Force to reach for it. 

Mara took several more calming breaths and brought her focus on the strip. She felt it vibrate slightly, but it was too deeply embedded in her hair for the hold she had. Frustration started gnawing at her insides. She’d just started liking having her abilities back, she’d like having them a lot more if they rose above the level of haphazard parlor tricks. Skywalker had said this wasn’t even that hard.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Draw. Hold. She wasn’t going to let something as trivial as cuffs stop her. It was always the same, some setback or another that she just had to claw her way through, nothing could be easy, not for her, she always had to shove her way and _take_ things for herself--

There was a click and the cuffs sprang open.

For a second, Mara sat there breathing heavily, a thrum energy around her, already fading. She furrowed her brow, rubbing her wrists. Using the Force hadn’t felt like that, not at Wayland. Not before either. It felt heady, charged, and...easy, right there at hand. Maybe it was just about getting the learning curve down. 

With everyone busy with the loading and unloading, she could make her way down the _Jackal_ ’s narrow corridors for her satchel and blaster. She got rid of that excuse for a dress, stuffed it into her bag, and donned her flightsuit, grabbing her cloak to cover up.

After working on the suppressor and strapping the blaster to her forearm, she pulled up the hood. Holding the cloak tightly around herself, she cautiously made her way out of the ship.

The ship’s docking bay was a mass of busy activity. Mara snuck around crates labeled as foodstuffs, canisters of cleaning solutions, and other mundane cargo, which of course meant what was inside was anything but. Labor droids and cargo lifts were scattered throughout her immediate surroundings, so as soon as she put several meter’s distance from the ship, she was clear. The _Jackal_ was hardly alone in the arena-sized bay, other transports were being tended to several yards away, the bustle of ship and spaceport maintenance crews, along with travelers adding to the overall welcome chaos of the scene.

Mara had just managed to fall in step with a group of similarly dark cloaked tourists heading out into the access corridors when she spied Skywalker, occupied with the unloading alongside the rest of the crew, raising his head in her general direction. She should have taken him up on his offer to train her -- if anything to learn how to be in the same room without feeling like she was walking around with a blasted neon holo arrow right above her head. 

Outside, Lothal was even more of a beehive of activity, especially now that it was evening in this part of the planet. Once an enthusiastic part of the Empire, there had been enough dissident elements for the planet to transition smoothly into the kind of cesspool of self interest that characterized most of the Outer Rim, at least as far as spaceway hubs were concerned. 

Mara let herself fall back from the tourists. The captain was probably handing all the fraudulent paperwork along with his first mate. She supposed she should start thinking about them by their names and backgrounds, even though that seemed too generous for these kind of bottom feeders. The captain, Ovarung Denk, wasn’t anything above your classic mid-tier criminal, his second, Bareth Selmur, wasn’t either, most of the crew was wanted for the classics: robbery and murder, the kidnapping charges were relatively new. She had ten pirates to account for. Her tally had been five when she left the bay, unloading and organizing cargo.

The remaining five were probably off shift at a nearby cantina already. She would need to corner just one for now. Shifting her blaster holster, she walked out of the spaceport hangar towards the plethora of establishments that catered to travelers and spaceport workers, the lights from the holographic billboards bleeding down to the quick moving crowd. 

There was no point in going into the cantinas one by one to look for the pirates, one or more of them would eventually have to come back to take over the next shift and do guard duty. It was a matter of waiting at the main thoroughfare. Catching one of the crew would be best, but she could adapt if she were forced to deal with three. Mara ambled along the various tapcafes that lined the corridor, feigning a scan at the holographic menus displayed.

In a stroke of luck, one did break away first, walking alone towards the ship. It turned out to be the one who’d put on that moronic stare down in the lounge as she played reluctant victim on Skywalker’s lap. She’d done well then, pulling away and burying her face into Skywalker’s shirt, but the sudden flare in Skywalker’s presence through the Force had been surprising. Given earlier, she’d primed herself to expect some of that noble Jedi righteous anger -- still past the bounds of what she thought Skywalker would feel, but what she’d gotten from him was different at that particular moment. She couldn’t place it -- yet another galling reminder at how measly her skills were, but then again, she’d hardly think about them if it weren’t for Skywalker.

The man was heading back in the direction of the spaceport, if the maps she’d consulted were right, there should be an alley only a couple of blocks away. Mara unholstered her blaster and set to follow. 

Pirates and their like were often easy targets as far as criminals went. They lived under the illusion that they were on the top of the food chain. Few things were more satisfying than disabusing them of it.

Mara pulled down the hood and followed close behind. According to the map she’d memorized there should be an alley -- and there it was. She made a show of stumbling into the pirate.

“Watch where--” The muzzle of the blaster against his side through her cloak, quickly made him stop in his tracks. He stiffened.

“Easy now,” she whispered, digging the muzzle harder into his side. “Little girls like me tend to startle. Let’s take a walk.”

“I don’t carry more than thirty on me,” he said under his breath.

“Take a left here.” He did, walking right into the alley. Before he could get any ideas, she brought her foot out in front of him, shoving him forward hard and he fell on the permacrete. That didn’t stop him for reaching for his blaster, but it did make it so she could get off a warning shot just a foot in front of him. He dropped the blaster.

“You know the drill.” Mara leveled the holdout squarely at his face, stepping forward and kicking the blaster away, not moving her gaze nor her own weapon from him. “Hands where I can see them.”

His head lifted and for a long gratifying moment, he just gaped at her as he lifted up his hands, coming up on his knees. “Rugger?” 

She bared her teeth. “I don’t think you’re making our date tonight.”

That was, of course, when his eyes settled on the suppressor at the muzzle of the blaster. “Bounty hunter,” he gasped, his eyes widening more, if such a thing were possible.

Not exactly, but it was a decent educated guess. She could play that too. 

“Should know better than to pick up strays. So, Arten Riak. We can do this the easy way and you answer my questions or…” Mara shrugged. “I don’t recommend the hard way.”

Now that the surprise had worn off he cursed at her in a show of bravado. “What do you want? You know I liked you--”

One shot just right above his shoulder set him straight. “Meyna Vir.”

The pirate’s emotions flickered.

“You know the name. Good. Start talking.” He didn’t speak and she pressed, “Or don’t, and we see how much better that outfit looks with blaster holes in it. I get paid either way.”

He cursed at her again.

She shifted the blaster muzzle ever so slightly. The shot got him on the leg and he fell back with a yell. 

“Meyna Vir.”

“The rich girl,” he cried out, holding his leg. “I didn’t do...anything...!”

“Who did?” The question was a tricky one, even if the pirate was betting to come out of this alive, he’d be ratting out his crewmates.

“It was an accident.”

She nodded. “Sure. You just _happened_ to kidnap her. And what? She was stupid enough to run her mouth? Someone lost their head?”

“The boss said if we got out of the sector!”

She tsked. “No going off topic.”

He shook his head. “He said we were too far for a death mark.”

Mara flashed him a smile that could cut glass. “What’d you do with her?”

A jolt from her danger sense as he reached for something behind him, and her instincts took over. She crouched and pulled the trigger, the shot catching him on the head. 

A speedy examination after showed her he had been reaching for a smaller snap shot blaster at his back with in a flexi holster, less powerful than her holdout, but easier to hide. Useful.

She palmed it along with his identifications and threw it all into her satchel, shaking her head. Well, it hadn’t been a total loss.

He’d been more reluctant to talk than she’d expected, which probably meant the mess was as nasty as everyone assumed. That was fine. Information was only part of the job anyway.

\--

“What’s taking Arten so kriffin’ long,” Galen groused. “Kruk said he left before they did.”

“Maybe he went to another cantina and decided to spend all the credits he would have used on a girl on booze.” Dunn looked up from his holopad game.

Mahas grumbled from his stool, “That’d be just like him. Not that you all are any better.”

“The rest of us got here on time. You remember that. Have one of you stay behind.” Jeshi scowled at Mahas.

Beside him Dreiz shook his head. “Don’t look at me.”

“Let Stonn do it,” Galen suggested from where he sat, boots up on a crate. “He looks entertained.”

Luke shook his head. He’d been sitting on one of the crates, ostensibly watching the grav-ball match on huge holoscreen in the distance, but trying to figure out why Mara had actually left the ship. He thought she would only make it _seem_ as if she had. Maybe she’d gone to meet a contact. Through the bond, he’d only gotten the sense that she was after information -- right before she’d torn through it without giving him a chance to teach her to undo it properly. He shook his head at the memory. He thought with the cuffs they’d been getting somewhere.

In any case, he’d vastly prefer staying where he was to spending more time with the crew, but he wouldn’t learn anything that way. Luke didn’t look away from the screen when he muttered, “How much unloading did you do anyway, Galen? _You_ kriffin’ stay behind.”

“You’ve been with us--”

“Oh, come off it,” he shifted an annoyed look towards him. “I earned my break just like all of you. That shavit about the new guy’s gettin’ old.”

“I’ll do it,” Dunn spoke up. 

“Much obliged,” Strilath put in with a smile. “See, that’s respect for elders right there.”

“Go kriff yourself, Stri. I just don’t feel like watching you piss on the side of every karkin’ speeder on my way back.”

Strilath laughed and reached out to tousle Dunn’s head as if he were a five year old. “I understand, runt. It can be intimidating.”

Dunn shoved him away with a grimace.

Galen groaned. “Not this again. No one wants to hear about your dick, Stri.”

“Finest dick in the known galaxy--”

“You morons can stay here and talk about Stri’s dick if you want,” Dreiz cut in looking at his chrono. “I’m gonna go take the edge off.” 

A sudden surge of emotion among all the ribbing drew Luke’s attention just a second before Dunn spoke.

“You sure you should do that?” Dunn was looking down at his boot. Luke studied him out of the corner of his eye. He was scared. “Bareth said--”

“‘The kriff’s the matter with you, Dunn?” Enif snapped.

He didn’t seem to be the only one, Luke noted. 

Dunn raised his hands. “Okay, I’m just sayin’. If we have a bounty on us--” 

“We _always_ have bounties on us,” Mahas growled. “Kriffin’ occupational hazzard.”

“Yeah, but--”

“I’m not gonna sit around wasting time with you girls. I’m gonna get a drink.” Mahas waved him off, beginning his walk toward the exit, all the crew save the three staying behind with the ship following. 

Luke slid off the crate, curious. From what he knew, Mahas was right, pirate gangs always had bounties on them, so why would Dunn be that scared? Why would any of them be, for that matter. The feeling had ebbed, but there was still unease among them as they moved out of the bay and into the main area of the spaceport. 

Luke sent out his senses around them, there didn’t seem anything that warranted any paranoia as far as he was concerned. In reaching out, he caught on to Mara’s presence. He found himself giving the street around them a closer scan. There were plenty of travelers and workers around them. It should be easy enough to pick her out now that he knew she was there. 

He turned his head, sifting through the various presences human and alien around him, and there she was, a slight figure in a black cloak, hood covering her face, walking in the opposite direction maybe a good five to six feet away. There was something off about her Force presence, something that he couldn’t pin down. She must have met with her contact and gotten what she was after. He frowned, deepening his probe a little, some of it, but there was still _something else_...

“You coming, Stonn?” Strilath called. “What is it?”

Luke focused again on the scene in front of him, hurrying his steps to catch up with the crew. “Just deja vu.” He couldn’t stop himself from a quick glance back, but she had already vanished into the crowd. 

Galen nodded. “You been to enough of these places they all look the same.”

Mara must have been waiting for the shift change to go back. He didn't know how she'd manage to get back in with half of the crew posted around the ship. If she'd only left the training bond in place...

Luke followed the crew into the nearest dingy cantina and settled into a booth. While they all ordered their drinks, he wondered how to bring up Dunn’s reaction.

“Bareth said you did some job over at Vandyne.” Dreiz downed his shot of whiskey. 

Luke nodded. NRI had at least provided him that much of a cover through their web of contacts. “Did a couple.”

“Said you were the skinner.”

Luke took a swig of the whiskey. “Someone had to be.”

Mahas scoffed. “Explains a lot. A kriffin’ pickpocket. I don’t see why the boss hired you at all.”

Luke leaned back casually. If that’s what it took to throw Mahas off...“I could show you.”

He shook his head. “Save your cons for someone who cares. If the boss says you’re in, you’re in. But this ain’t stealing from ewoks. This is the big leagues.”

“Oh?” Luke fiddled with the glass. “Where are we going next?”

Galen raised his arm to call for the waitress. “I was wanting to ask that too. The boss said shipment. Is that shipment shipment or --”

“Ryloth.” Strilath put his glass down hard and wiped his mouth.

Galen’s eyes widen. “Ryloth? Like tailheads?”

Luke almost winced at the slur, but took a swig of his drink instead. 

“Shut your mouth,” Mahas spat. “You want to air all our business here?” 

The table quieted down as the waitress, a Duros woman, wandered over and got their second round orders.

“I wonder about the boss and new blood sometimes, I really do,” Mahas muttered darkly after she’d left.

“Relax, Mahas,” Strilath soothed. “No one’s looking.”

Mahas scowled at him and put a few credits on the table. “Relax? That’s a great idea. But not here with you bunch of space apes.” He finished his drink in one chug, turned, and began walking towards the exit.

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Galen asked.

Dreiz snorted. “Mahas has always had a shavit attitude.”

“What about Dunn?” Luke asked. “Seemed kind of spooked back there. Everyone’s got a bounty.”

Dreiz shrugged. 

“Not this kind of bounty,” Strilath muttered, downing his next shot.

Luke leaned forward with a grin. “What? Got the death sentence in twelve systems? I’ve heard that before.”

Strilath smiled, but waved a hand. “Pissed off the wrong people is all. Just need to lay low for a while. Do some work in the wild.”

Beside him, Dreiz flagged the waitress down again.

“The wild?”

Dreiz looked at him with something close to exasperation over the waitress’ bulbous head. “You don’t get out much do you?”

“Outer Rim, you mean.” Luke nodded. “All there is, far as I’m concerned. Manaan's fine, but I’d never run a job there.”

Strilath shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Luke took another sip of his whiskey. “Don’t care either.”

Dreiz leaned back on his chair. “The best loot is outside the Outer Rim. The best,” he took a swig of his drink, “everything.”

“Including patrol ships,” Luke pointed out. “Security. No way to lift anything, much less get out.”

Galen laughed. “You’re thinking Inner Rim, Stonn. Middle is where you want to be. The government is a clusterkriff, all of that mean security you’re thinking off becomes less than a blip on the radar once you’re past Cona.”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Okay.” He shifted forward on his seat. “Say one were in the neighborhood, what would be -- “

Luke didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence because a Rodian, drunk by the looks of it, collided with Dreiz leading him to spill all his whiskey on himself.

“Kriffin’ watch it!” Dreiz snarled.

To which the Rodian pulled out a blaster and Luke knew the whole evening was lost.

\--

Mara made her way back into the bay, noticing that the shift had left the other six pirates, the youngest one, Dunneth Cridmeen taking the missing pirate’s place. Unfortunately they were currently playing a round of sabacc right in front of the lone boarding ramp. She wouldn’t be able to get back in that way. She walked around the bay, weaving among the crowd, but keeping her eyes on the freighter. 

Mara paused behind an information kiosk, pretending to be interested in landspeeder rentals. If she could get to the top behind the ship, she could sneak in through the reaction chamber. She took off her cloak and threw it into the satchel.

Mara scanned the bay noting one of the maintenance crew talking to one of the tourists. He’d taken his helmet off and laid it on top of a stacked cargo lift behind him. She palmed it swiftly. With it and her nondescript black flightsuit, if one didn’t look too closely, she could pass as a member of any of the spaceport maintenance crews. And for the more dangerous part...pulling down the helmet so it obscured most of her face, she approached the pirates.

“Hey, port security wants a tie down inspection,” she called out from a respectable distance, not too close, not too far. With the helmet and some impatience in her voice, she doubted they’d recognize her. As she’d anticipated, the pirates took one look at her and kept playing. Good.

“I’m going to have to check your craft’s tie downs and port wings,” she continued.

One of them turned to her and grunted dismissively. Enif Clar, she thought.

“We already went through inspections.” 

“It’s not a real inspection,” Mara added. “I’m not going to touch your precious cargo. Just let me get this over with so my boss can shut up. I’m going to need the access ladder.”

She wasn’t expecting any offers for help, and luckily, she didn’t get any. The same pirate rolled his eyes and gestured to the ship. “Go get it then.” He was back into the game before he finished the sentence. “Knock yourself out.”

And there the trick was straight forward, bring the spacecraft access ladder and climb up the drive nozzle. The last time she’d done this, she had simply used the Force and jumped. Somehow, she was sure if she tried that now, she’d end up as an interesting souvenir on the bay’s permacrete below, if that. Mara summoned what she could to push the ladder away so the pirates would be none the wiser.

If she cut her way through she would end at the engine room and then it’d be a matter of using her welder to reseal the opening. She got rid of the helmet and fished into her satchel for the lightsaber. 

Mara drew it out, and both the familiarity and the unfamiliarity of the metal of the hilt made her breath catch. She’d had it with her since Skywalker had given it to her scarcely a month ago-- it had seemed too valuable a gift to refuse after everything, but something about it left her unsettled, even now.

Her eyes fell upon the hilt. Skywalker’s lightsaber. Vader’s lightsaber. Once, she'd had her own and it had been _unique_ , from a crystal only seen once -- 

No. Lies. All of it.

She shut her eyes. The lightsaber was a tool, just like any other, and she would put it to use. Her jaw locked tight as she pressed the activator button and got to work.


	4. Safeties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand we’re back, this is turning out far plottier and involved than I expected. Also less of a casually fun romp (although, really, was it ever when there’s threats of sexual violence bandied about like it’s no thang). 
> 
> Which takes me to a note that the language here can go into rather uncomfortable quarters, if this is something you’re sensitive about this is probably not the fic for you. I think the beginning three chapters set the tone, but it’s been a while. Just making sure we all want to be here.
> 
> *apologies for people who got a double notice...I'm trying and failing at figuring out where to paste so that the story shows it's been updated. I'll get the hang of it eventually, please bear with me.

__  
__  
_You want it all, I understand_  
_Gimme the details, take my hand_  
_I think it's time for a new adoption_  
_Just get in line, baby, we got options_ [[x](https://youtu.be/T3v-0NRdPYE)]  


  


  


Luke’s boots and those of the three pirates from the _Jackal’s_ crew pounded on the permacrete as they ran back into the bay, not even pausing with so much as a hello to the five crewmates playing a round of sabacc in front of the ship as they rushed to get inside. They didn’t stop until they reached the lounge, and then all four of them nearly collapsed on the seating area around a table. 

Luke took that pretense of exhaustion to reach out and get confirmation Mara had made it back on the ship, just as he’d thought she did. There. She _was_ somewhere on the ship, near the center of it -- the crew quarters? -- he wasn’t sure.

“That was close,” Galen wheezed beside him and Luke pulled his attention back to the lounge. 

“Especially with that ponytail,” Dreiz spat. “Nearly dying because of a stupid karkin’ ponytail of yours.”

“Wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t flown off the handle,” Galen shot back. “Besides Hapan pirates--”

“You are not Hapan!” Dreiz exploded. “You’re just Outer Rim chuff like all of us. The frag you puttin on airs for?”

“You don’t know shavit about me.” Galen pushed himself up.

“Sit the kriff down, you lizard monkey,” Strilath yelled angling his massive frame in front of him. “We were already in a karkin’ mess you wanna make another?”

“Wouldn’t have had to bolt if it weren’t for Dreiz,” Galen muttered, plopping himself back down. "Dunno why he has his choobies in a bunch."

“Yeah well that bug face wouldn’t have whapped Stonn one if it weren’t for you.” A faint smile slowly creased Strilath’s face. “Went down like sack of tools.” There was nothing faint about the guffaw he gave in Luke’s direction. “At least get the man a cold compress.”

Luke raised a hand and shook his head, feigning chagrin. 

“You’re not much good in a fight,” Galen noted, turning to Luke.

“Point of what I do is not to get caught.” Luke tossed a pouch of credits on the table with carefully affected carelessness.

There was a silence while the pirates processed it. Half a minute later, Strilath let out another guffaw and palmed it, jingling the cred chips inside. “Whose?”

Luke spread his hands with a half grin. 

“The Rodian?” Galen chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Fraggin’ skinners.”

“He was drunk.” Luke waved a hand. “It wasn’t even that hard.” Replacing it was a little harder. He’d exchanged it with his own pouch, and he wasn’t actually intending to use the Rodian’s credits, but it still felt uncomfortable, even if did serve a larger purpose. Luke was reminded again why taking this assignment from NRI had been a bad idea.

“You could have avoided his fist in your face while you were at it,” Dreiz said with a snort.

“There was a lot going on,” Luke protested. He stood up and whisked the pouch back from Strilath, nudging the pirate’s grip away from it with the Force while stretching his own hand towards it so the pouch landed fluidly in his own, all of it quickly enough that it looked like a swift sleight of hand.

Strilath’s eyes widened. “I’m never playing sabbac with you again.”

“Neither am I,” Galen piped up. “That’s just barvy right there.”

Before Luke could reply, the captain entered the lounge with Bareth next to him, both their faces scrunched in disapproval. The rest of the crew walked in behind him.

“What the kriff was that all about?” the captain snapped.

“Nothing we couldn't handle, boss,” Strilath bit out. “Just a bit of a..disagreement over at a cantina.”

“Is it too much to ask for you idiots to keep a low profile and act _civilized_ ,” Bareth bit out with a scowl. "The last thing we want to do is tangle with spaceport sec."

“Have you looked at an astro chart recently? We’re as far from anything civilized as can be,” quipped Galen.

The door to the lounge hissed open and Mahas walked in with his usual sour expression. Luke’s head snapped up. Mahas’ feeling in the Force was different, worry ran through him.

“Exactly.” He tossed something on the table. A wallet. “Arten’s.”

It was Dunn who spoke up first, licking his lips nervously. “Was it--”

“Shut the kriff up, Dunn,” Mahas cut him off. “Credits and his snap are gone. Body by a dumpster in an alley not even ten minutes from where Enif and them were. Shot in the the leg and the head. Looks like a mugging gone bad.” 

“Arten did have a big mouth,” Enif supplied expressionlessly.

“All of you morons do,” Bareth snapped and swore. “Now we’re a man down. Engineer too. Great.” 

The captain was already scanning from among the five men behind him. “Enif, you’re going to have to do double shifts.”

Enif groaned. “With the amount of breakdowns this bucket goes through, I’ll never sleep.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fix it at all and we can all just die,” Mahas put in snidely.

Enif’s face darkened. “Of all the -- “

“Mahas!” the captain snapped. “You’re not helping. Shut that karkin' mouth or get the kriff out. Enif teach Jeshi the basics, we have enough gunners to spare.”

Jeshi looked distressed but he didn’t say anything.

Enif rubbed his face resignedly. “Yeah, yeah. C'mon, I’ll teach you how to fix things without blowing us up and down the Hyperion Way.”

Strilath was shaking his head as they left. “We could barely get out before spaceport sec was up our ass. How could a mugger just do him like that?” 

Mahas shrugged. His tone was a little more subdued when he said, “Probably drunk out of his mind. Only reason spaceport sec here would give a kriff about some cantina mess is that the cantinas have 'em on payroll. On the streets?” He made a dismissive noise. "It's Lothal."

Bareth grunted. “Let that be an example to the rest of you. Kriff around and you can end up with a whole lot of nothing. Let’s get the ship ready and get out before spaceport sec decides to come nosying.”

\--

Mara kept her senses trained out while she went through one of the cabins. As far as she knew the crew was still outside, and opportunities like this were few and far between. The cabin she was in was about as big as Skywalker’s and nearly the same layout, which made going through it relatively easy. Unfortunately she hadn’t found anything that could give her any more information about what had happened to Meyna.

Truth be told, she didn’t think she would find much. If they were flesh traders, that meant that they were well-versed with disposal procedures. Despite the number of personal effects she’d been told could be present, Mara seriously doubted she’d come across anything. She’d encountered the trophy-keeping sort once or twice in incidents she wasn’t particularly keen to remember, the pirates were of a more mundane breed. Anything they’d kept from Meyna they’d probably sold off ages ago. 

In any case, she was glad she’d gotten some confirmation from Riak. It’d make everything much neater.

Mara stopped from where she was digging inside one of the storage compartments and sent her senses out. There was movement in the front of the ship. With a curse, she got on the desk and dug through her satchel for the screwdriver. There was no movement in her direction, but she worked quickly. She pulled her gloves off when she was done and pushed them into her satchel before lifting herself up. Once there she secured the panel with some adhesive strands. The point was that she could get easy access without the cabin's occupant finding anything disturbed.

The whine of the repulsorlifts broke through the air and she had just enough time to brace herself against the sides of the narrow shaft before the _Jackal’s_ thrusters kicked on. She held on by a hair, cursing as she felt her stomach lurch. The ship finally leveled and she made herself shoot forward as quickly as she could.

She was _not_ going to be in the ventilator shaft when they accelerated to go into lightspeed. 

\--

In the rush to leave both the cantina and the spaceport, no one had thought to check for Mara. It was around when Luke was just finishing his shift that Dunn rushed into the holds radiating puzzlement and disappointment. 

“Hey, hey!” he called, out of breath. “Rugger’s gone.”

“What?” Dreiz popped his head out from where he was changing the repulsor lubricant from the lift truck. He walked over to a powered down binary load lifter droid next.

The pirates on shift, Dreiz, Kruk, Strilath, Galen, and him had been mostly busy with routine maintenance, running diagnotics checks on the loading and conveyor systems and servicing the power supplies along the second section of the hold.

“The girl,” Dunn explained. “She opened the cuffs and left.”

“What do you mean broke the cuffs and left?” Kruk asked from the other side of the room where he was up on a ladder, fiddling with one of the aerial pulleys. “She can’t just _open_ the cuffs.”

“You take a look then. The cuffs are open and she’s gone.”

Luke felt the crew’s bafflement and skepticism wash out. He looked over at Dunn from the main conveyor line.

“Kriff, we got a lockpick?” Galen said with a groan. "Fraggin' stowaways. Free pussy is always a bad idea."

Strilath laughed as he looked up from his datapad where the system scan was running. “Check the first return idler, would you, Stonn?" he said between chuckles. "Some of the numbers don’t look right." 

“Well, she’s light years away now.” Dunn sounded glum. 

“Dunno why you're laughing Stri. Her leaving's the least of our worries.” Luke heard Galen scoff behind him.

“Stonn?” Strilath prompted.

“You got buildup on them,” Luke called out. “You could clean them up, but they need to be covered up with rubber or plasteel most likely. I’m off now though.” He found his perfect opening to leave in search of Mara and straightened up. 

“Bet you haven't checked your valuables,” Galen put in grimly. “No way a spaceport mouse's gonna leave empty handed. If she opened the cuffs then we had a karkin' lockpick bitch for the ride all along.”

There was a chorus of cursing.

“Boss should have sent that slut flying out the airlock. We don't get paid until the next job,” Dreiz grumbled. 

“At least scared her right,” Kruk said offhandedly. "Hard to go thieving when dumboric solution has near melted your hands."

Luke couldn’t help but scowl darkly as he went over to Dunn. Vile.

“Now, that’s not nice.” Strilath chuckled. “I like my women with working hands.”

“She’s still got her mouth,” Dreiz joined in. “Or her _suuchit_.” 

Immediately, Luke imagined grabbing Dreiz by the collar and dragging him over to the turbohose to give him the kind of vigorous mouth scrubbing his aunt had given him that one time she'd overheard him mutter a half hearted curse at a malfunctioning vaporator. This was nothing like that though. He hadn't heard that kind of foul slur in years.

“Or her ass,” Strilath continued, not helping the urge. “I’d say tits, but she barely had any meat on her. Isn't that right, Stonn?”

Actually, blasting the turbohose on _all_ of them on one of the higher settings was getting more and more appealing by the second. It was time to leave.

“You okay, Stonn?” Dunn asked, a note of wariness in his voice. “You’re holding on to the magclamp kinda tight there.”

Luke let go. 

Dunn was smiling as he took the tool. “She’s not here you know.” 

The younger man must have caught something in his expression because the smile vanished, and he just lifted his hands, scurrying away wordlessly. 

Luke eased up his knotted muscles. He breathed in some calm and shut them out as he walked out of the holds and back to his cabin. Mara’s Force presence got more distinct as he neared suggesting she’d be there, and she was -- sitting at the desk clad in a black flightsuit looking at her datapad. If it weren’t for his familiarity through her Force signature, he was sure the black hair she’d pulled back into a tight bun would have thrown him for a loop. 

“You’re in,” Mara said without looking up. She thumbed her datapad off and stood. “Good. I wanted to use your ‘fresher but didn’t know how far the sound of running water would carry.” He noticed smudges and a fine layer of soot on her face and on her hands, she must have been doing something involved since he'd sighted her. Come to think of it, he wondered how she'd gotten in, given that Dunn and them had been stationed by the only entrance to the ship for the rest of the time they'd been downplanet.

Before he could ask, she was off to the ‘fresher, leaving him staring after her. She’d left her satchel outside on the desk beside her datapad, and while he was sure her datapad was locked, the shower _had_ just come on. He could easily open her bag and maybe find something that would clue him in into her business with the contact or whatever had taken her so far from the _Jackal_ while at Lothal, maybe even get some clue into the weirdness he’d sensed from her.

But that would be a breach of trust.

Luke pondered it for a second. Mara had been so evasive about the job she was on, and so reluctant, even though all he’d wanted was to help, even going as far as to give her the information he had. If he did go through her things, he’d only be confirming that her default suspicions were right and he wasn’t to be trusted, wouldn’t he?

The shower stopped running at that moment, effectively making his decision for him.

Mara emerged a few minutes later wearing a flightsuit a size or two larger than her, brushing past him to get her datapad as she towel dried her hair. With it wet in the lightning of the cabin, it was easy to imagine it still red.

He shook off that pointless thought, irritation surfacing, mostly at himself for wanting to give her more information, all the while knowing that she’d continue holding her cards close -- even after all they’d been through, as if he weren’t to be trusted. 

“Thanks for the technique with the cuffs,” she said absentmindedly. 

Luke suppressed a pointed retort. It had been a long day.

She tilted her head, looking up at him as if she’d sensed something. “Oh, I wanted to ask -- what’s with the shiner?”

“Bar fight. You know,” he attempted to begin politically, “there’s better ways to undo a training bond--”

“It's real?" Mara lowered the datapad.

He nodded and her eyes widened slightly.

“The crew got into a bar fight?” She scoffed. “Idiots. Any of them get blasted?”

He waved a hand. “I took care of the blasters. It was more of a brawl than a shootout anyway.” He contemplated telling her that Arten was gone, but she was speaking and it wasn't particularly relevant...or even unpredictable. Mara wasn't likely to have much contact with them anyway from here on in, thankfully.

“I can see that. How does that shiner work with your disguise anyway?" Mara was saying. "‘Stonn’ has a black eye?”

“He does. The disguise works through default perceptions, so whatever they think is ordinary, whatever they’re counting on is what they’ll see more or less.”

“But you’re still controlling those perceptions, right? What happens if ‘Stonn’ gets hit by a table and,” she made a gesture, “Lights out?”

He shook his head. “That wouldn’t be good.”

“Good thing you can take a punch then.” She gave him a half smile. “No sleeping on the job, huh?”

He found himself smiling back. “Not anywhere they can see.” He wondered if this back and forth meant that Mara was _finally_ loosening up a little. He felt his own annoyance lessening. “Anyway, I wish you hadn’t taken the down the training bond. I would've liked to see how it went with the cuffs.”

Her expression immediately turned cautious. “I managed just fine.”

“I see that, but…” He sighed. There was that cageyness again.

“What?”

Luke hesitated, hoping he could channel some of Leia’s diplomacy. “You sometimes make things more difficult than they need to be.”

She frowned. “Such as?”

“Well, like the training bond, for one. It was like,” he searched for an analogy, “blowing up a door to get out of a room when you could just open it. It would have only taken you a couple of minutes to learn how to undo it. You didn’t have to _tear_ it off.”

He felt embarrassment in her sense. Mara had shifted her gaze just off his shoulder. 

“Listen, I think it’s normal to feel...uncomfortable about some of this. You said you hadn’t had much training specifically with the Force, right?”

There was a pause, but she nodded infinitesimally. 

“You’ve never made a training bond before. It’s not meant to be invasive--”

Mara’s head snapped up suddenly. “I wasn’t...” She stopped. “That wasn’t,” she broke off again awkwardly and shook her head. The embarrassment had shifted to something else, but it was too complicated to nail down. 

He waited but it didn’t seem like she was willing to broach whatever that was either, and so he went on. “I had one when I trained and since then I’ve read about them. They’re there for guidance and support, not to pry. Karrde’s business is his. I know how much I owe him. And you.”

There Mara made a dismissive sound and waved a hand, expression clearing up. “You don’t owe me a thing, Skywalker. We squared up, remember?”

“Point is, if you feel like not making things difficult…” Luke shrugged.

She opened her mouth.

“I know...” He interrupted flatly, rubbing the back of his neck. He thought she’d come around, but maybe he’d been pushing too hard -- just like with the scheduling thing. “You have it all under control and don’t need any help at all.”

Annoyance flickered through her sense. “I was going to say, I didn’t find traces of the firegems in the cargo holds. I’m going to keep coming back, but nothing this second time.”

He jolted a bit at the change in subject. “The cargo holds? You were at the cargo holds? You think they would keep something of Meyna's…?” 

“I don’t know. If they smuggle beings that’s where they’d keep them. It was a thought. But I didn’t find any firegems either. A ship like this has secret compartments, I'm sure, but I’m going to need more time in the holds.”

The rest of her statement sank in. “You kept an eye out for the firegems.”

She shrugged. “Why not? I was there already.”

“Oh.” He felt self conscious over snapping at her. That..felt different. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine. Easier for me, since I have nowhere else to be.” She passed a hand down her face and looked at her chrono. “I should probably be getting back there and take advantage of dinner and them being asleep.”

“All night in the holds?” He asked to her back as she went over to the desk and climbed on it. “You’re not going to take stim pills for it are you?”

She flashed him a testy look over her shoulder. “I’m rummaging around cargo holds. This isn’t the type of situation to call for that.”

“Just checking,” he said as she reached to pull herself up. “But there _are_ techniques that control the need for sleep, and manage tiredness…”

She squared her shoulders as if bracing herself and turned her head, just like he’d suspected she would. “Those would be Jedi techniques, no?”

Luke nodded, biting back a smile. He sat casually on his bunk, hands in his pockets.

Mara turned to face him and jumped off the desk, but stayed in front of it. “Why are you doing this? I told you, we’ve squared up. You don’t owe me anything.”

He flashed her a lopsided smile. “And there you go making things more difficult than they need to be.”

“No one gives something for nothing, Skywalker.” Mara crossed her arms over her chest. “Not even you.”

“Training doesn’t work that way.”

She blinked. “Is that what you’re doing?”

Mara looked so confused he chuckled. “Why does this surprise you? We started at Wayland, didn’t we?”

A mass of feeling swelled up, like before, a knot too complicated to untangle. He almost winced, now catching clearly that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Shadows of her past, most likely. He'd suspected they lingered when she’d mentioned near a month ago that as much as it seemed to be coming home, it wasn’t -- the realization that whatever she’d seen looking out towards Coruscant's cityscape long ago was what she’d been _put up_ to seeing. 

Mara might not have understood then what she’d been giving away in all her determination to consider her past done. Luke didn't doubt that she _would_ put it behind her eventually, but knew it wouldn’t be easy. Her home wasn't just gone, it had never existed in the first place. 

Mara was still staring at him with suspicion. “We’re on _jobs_ now.” 

“Which makes it all even more useful, don’t you think?” He’d never seen Mara turn down _useful_ , not at Myrkr, not during their stint at the _Chimaera_ , not at Wayland. That made it the surest point of persuasion he had. 

__She considered it for a second. “Fine.”_ _

__Luke lifted his chin. “Let me see how it went with the cuffs first.”_ _

__“I told you it went fine. I’m here, aren’t I?”_ _

__“Like the training bond did?”_ _

__She narrowed her eyes at him._ _

__He sighed. “You have to work with me here, Mara.”_ _

__“I don’t know how I did it,” she muttered._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“The training bond thing. I don’t know how I did it.”_ _

__“I thought so.” Luke hesitated. Given what he knew about her past training and abilities, chances were that she hadn’t needed it before. She’d had a mindlink, which might have functioned in a similar way...and that felt like confirmation enough of her discomfort. It seemed obvious now._ _

__Mara’s eyes were skittering across the cabin. He got the impression that she was barely keeping herself from fidgeting. He knew all that nervousness wasn't really about the training bond. She already knew what it was like._ _

__“Could I try?” he asked softly._ _

__She nodded from where she stood, leaning back against the desk. He closed his eyes tentatively reaching towards her mind, trying for a gentle pull. A shift in his perceptions and he moved on to latch the bond. It really wasn’t dissimilar from touching someone’s mind. It was the latch that made all the difference._ _

__He sensed her pushing back her wariness. “Most of your shielding is still in place. See?”_ _

__“I know,” she murmured, with a distant gaze._ _

__“This is the first time I’ve made one. This is how you unthread it.” A slight pressure at the contact point and the bond fell away. “There it goes.” He leaned back. “Try it?”_ _

__For a second Luke thought she’d refuse, but he felt her reach out. It took her more effort than the first time, and she radiated more unsettledness now than then, but after a few minutes, she set the latch._ _

__\--_ _

__“There,” Skywalker said. “That’s a smoother latch.”_ _

__Judging by the few fixes he made at the edges, that seemed to be the case. Again, she could catch some basic sense impressions, the bunk he was sitting on, his eagerness and how pleased he was that she going along with this training exercise, along with something else that ran deeper -- caution?_ _

__She didn’t understand why he would be so interested in training her. Preparing her to deal with C’baoth’s clone was one thing, but there wasn’t a similar crisis in the horizon. She knew what she would get out of it, but she wasn’t sure what Skywalker would, not right away._ _

__“Is this,” she pointed between them, needing to resolve the question, “your trial run? Is that why you want to train me?”_ _

__The eagerness faded a bit, more of that caution spreading. “Don’t you want to develop your skills?”_ _

__She smiled. “You’re trying to be devious again.” She tapped her temple. “Works even less with this training thing. The whole 'answer a question with a question' thing is an amateur trick.”_ _

__He shook his head at her but a smile came over his face, too, and some humor rippled out from him. “Trial run is such a negative way to put it,” he chided, lightly teasing._ _

__She arched an eyebrow. “Prototype board?”_ _

__He winced._ _

__“Testing rodent.”_ _

__His face went blank, but she felt anger flare up, an accompanying flash of a woman -- her? It was too fast to pin -- on the ground and the derisive laughter of the pirates. Had to be her then. The rugger, they’d called her._ _

__“You’re not a rodent,” he said flatly._ _

__That was a bit quaint. She kept that appraisal well behind her shields. She was well aware she was no spaceport mouse._ _

__“And training is not an experiment,” he finished. “I’m serious. It’s not...trivial to me.”_ _

__“I know,” she grumbled. It was Skywalker of course it wouldn’t be anything but deadly serious._ _

__The corner of his lip twitched._ _

__She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t catch that.”_ _

__“Well, you let me catch it,” he retorted. “The same way you covered up what came before.”_ _

__She fixed him with a sullen look. “Now you’re just showing off. That makes me less inclined to decide in your favor.”_ _

__He let out a laugh. “Why?"_ _

__“Because you’re obnoxious and I don’t want to encourage you.” She felt a ripple of fondness from his part among the ensuing amusement, which made her shake her head. Only Skywalker would consider a putdown cause for amusement and amicable feeling, but, really, given the company he kept, she shouldn’t even be surprised. “It’s not about you though."_ _

__His eyebrows raised. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” She glared at the pedantic tone, but it was gone in the next statement. “All of the putting off due to scheduling did seem...,” he seemed to grope for something diplomatic, “like it was of a secondary order.”_ _

She sighed. “It’s not just training for the sake of training, right?” She hadn’t lied; this was not something she’d let herself think about too much. “It’s training to become a _Jedi_. Look, Skywalker, even if I wanted to pursue that kind of thing, I’ve been working for Karrde for less than a year and I’m also doing this Smuggler’s Alliance thing that you and Karrde wanted me to... I just have no more space for any other commitments. I’m sorry. I know candidates are...limited...” 

__“Wait wait.” He raised his hands. “Sure, becoming a Jedi Knight is the goal, but that’s a...a distant goal, an ideal.”_ _

__She narrowed her eyes, not sure if she bought it. She wasn’t reading any deceit, but just because Skywalker didn’t recognize it as a fiction, didn’t mean it wasn’t one at base. “Distant goal?"_ _

__“There’s a difference,” he explained. “Between the kind of training to give you more access to your skills and the kind of training to become a Jedi...or I would like there to be.”_ _

__She tilted her head. “I’m not sure I understand.”_ _

“I wouldn’t expect you to immediately _want_ to become a Jedi. Certainly not after...everything.” 

__“You said I was on my way.” She didn’t forget things like that._ _

__He pulled his hands out of his pockets and brought the palms together. “I do think so,” he admitted. “If you wanted to...the talent is certainly there, your sense of what’s right is there...but the question is always if you want to and that’s...murkier.”_ _

__She plucked out what was in the air between them. It was what she’d hated to broach from the beginning. What she couldn’t when they’d started talking about the training bond. Now that it was there between them, she _had_ to address it. “Because what happened to me. My past.”_ _

__He nodded, now reflective. “The more I thought about it, the more a certain ambivalence...is to be expected.”_ _

Mara wasn’t sure she liked the thought of Skywalker sitting down and pondering what happened to her at any length. _She_ didn’t like doing so. 

__“And training shouldn’t be a one-size-fits-all thing either,” he said, more upbeat as he steered them away from that tangent. “So we could adjust it so that you gain more ease with your gifts. Maybe as you grow into them, you’ll feel differently about how you’d like to put them to use.”_ _

__“I don’t know, Skywalker.” She sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it too, and if you handed me the lightsaber with the idea that I’d become a Jedi--”_ _

__“No.” He shook his head quickly. “No. I meant it when I said you earned it. The rest...the rest is up to you. No strings attached, even if you decided not to do this at all.” He seemed to be about to add something, but opted for silence instead. His presence in her mind also became more diffuse._ _

__She smiled a little, immediately picking up what he was doing -- putting a lid on his emotions so as not to pressure her._ _

__“Even if I don’t feel you wanting me to do this,” she noted with a tolerant smile. “I know it’s there. Again, deviousness doesn’t suit you.”_ _

__Amusement returned in his sense. “You always pick the most uncharitable way of looking at things.”_ _

__She turned serious. “I honestly don’t know.”_ _

__“It’s not something you have to decide on right away. But since we’re both here, it’d be a shame not use that time to brush up on your skills. Make them more viable, consistent tools for you to use in a pinch.” He paused. "And scheduling is no longer an issue."_ _

__Mara narrowed her eyes at him again. He was adopting her logic, just as he had bringing up the usefulness of what he could teach her. Transparently._ _

__That smirk on his face told her he knew she knew and she rolled her eyes._ _

__“Things don’t have to be difficult,” he ended brightly._ _

__The fact that he was using didn’t diminish the persuasive power of the argument and she bit the inside of her cheek, remembering the morning. It’d been easy then. If it could always be easy..._ _

__“Show me?”_ _

__She nodded and went back to the memory, Skywalker’s presence in her mind pulling close, somehow akin to looking over her shoulder. He saw her furious attempts to tap into the Force, to draw it to herself and hold it for as long as it took to trigger the pulse lock point, until with burst of will she clutched it to herself, heady and satisfying--_ _

__There was a flare of emotion from Skywalker, alarm? He withdrew, giving her space and she looked at him quizzically._ _

__He sat on the bunk, eyes unfocused as if he were running through something in his head, but his presence was back to being diffuse in her mind._ _

Mara was about to ask, when he spoke. “It,” he began carefully, “shouldn’t be _that_ easy.” He went on before she could intervene, “It’s my fault. I didn’t coach you with enough detail through my memories and the approach you saw and tried to mimic was...inaccurate.” 

__She laughed a little, puzzled. He seemed to be splitting hairs. “It worked, didn’t it?”_ _

__He nodded slowly and again seemed searching for the right way to broach something. Mara was running out of patience. “Out with it, Skywalker. What is it?”_ _

__“The more you use your powers,” he said. “The more you need to be careful about the mental state you use them with.”_ _

__She stared. He may as well have stopped speaking in Basic._ _

__He went on, “And your intentions.”_ _

__She looked at him oddly. “My intention was to get out of the cuffs.”_ _

__Skywalker looked up as if he were thinking again._ _

__“Stop glace-coating and spit it out. I did something wrong? But it worked. Easily too.”_ _

__“That’s the problem. It worked because you sourced your anger at yourself, at the situation.”_ _

__“Okay.” She still didn’t understand what difference it made._ _

__“It’s a bad habit now...mainly because it could have serious repercussions in the future as you develop your talents further.” She sensed there was more to it, but he went on. “You get used to sourcing your anger or any number of negative feelings, before you know it, things are spinning out of control. You're no longer using anger. It’s using you.” He paused. “First you impose your will on the cuffs, then you find yourself imposing your will on...anything else...anyone else.”_ _

__Mara blinked, then laughed. “I’m not that talented. Especially with,” she lifted a hand, “those types of exercises.” A memory of her trying desperately for a grip on Thrawn’s throat through the Force bubbled up. She kept it well away from the bond._ _

__He shook his head firmly. “It’s not about talent.” He seemed to think for a second. “It’s about safety.”_ _

__Her eyebrows raised. “Safety.”_ _

__“You first learned how to use a blaster in a range right?”_ _

__She had no idea where he was going with this. “Yeah, why?”_ _

__“Well, and you learned more than point and shoot right? Aiming techniques, proper shooting stance, proper grip...”_ _

__“The point, Skywalker.”_ _

__“It’s the same thing. It’s not about just using the abilities you have. It’s about the right way to use them. Otherwise...it’s dangerous for...everyone, you included. The more you use the abilities the stronger they’ll get. Talent isn’t what’s going to hold you back. It’ll be easy. All of it. Even what shouldn’t be.”_ _

__What lay under his words was a bit chilling, but quickly dispelled by the thought of her very clear, very obvious limits. If she closed her eyes she could still feel the noghri’s arm at her throat._ _

__Mara inhaled sharply._ _

But just because that sort of thing felt out of reach didn’t mean it didn’t exist. There’d been a rush in how she felt as she undid the cuffs, a sense of _power at hand_ in a way that didn’t compare to anything she’d felt before. She’d be an idiot to ignore the hazards of exposure to that, just the same as she’d be an idiot to underestimate the danger of a thermal detonator in her hand. 

__“That’s a good argument for letting sleeping dogs lie.” But even as she said it the idea seemed unpleasant too. She had these abilities, to pretend she didn’t, or to limit herself to just using them as hunches when they could be more didn’t sit well._ _

__There might come a moment --just like when Skywalker had found her-- where she might regret not having them at her disposal._ _

__Mara realized Skywalker had gone quiet, probably getting some inkling of the direction of her thinking._ _

__“It’s another reason why training is a good idea,” he continued smoothly as if sensing she’d noticed him watching her think. “Regardless of whether you’ll be a Jedi Knight or not. You’ll always have your abilities, so the right approach to them should be second nature. That way you can use them whenever you need to without hesitation.”_ _

__She rubbed her index finger at the corner of her eye. “I don’t remember it being like this at Wayland. I’m sure I must have been that angry during training or more.”_ _

__Skywalker looked a bit uneasy. “There were other...matters in play there.”_ _

__Mara had no desire to go excavating in that sinkhole again and just nodded. “Probably right.”_ _

__And he might be right about the other stuff too, much as she resented the extra complication. There were two options, either she could ignore her abilities, or she could develop them correctly. The first option irked her just out of practicality. If she had it, why not use it? That meant only the second option was left._ _

__Correct use._ _

__She bit down on her lower lip and looked at her chrono. “We don’t have long until they’ll expect you for dinner and I need to get back at the holds.”_ _

__“Let me take you through it more carefully and--”_ _

__She shook her head slowly. “I have to get back to the holds.”_ _

__“I’ll go with you.”_ _

__She felt her brows draw together._ _

__“I’ll teach you the refreshing technique and we’ll go through the holds again together. Two people can cover more ground than one, especially,” he added with a pointed look, “if that one person is exhausted. I’ve been meaning to go digging through the holds myself.”_ _

__Mara ran it over in her mind. Just the cargo holds. Okay. She could do that. She wasn’t counting on finding much and she’d told Karrde as much, but extra pair of eyes might help her get something more for Vir._ _

__Closure, she knew, had no price._ _

__“All right,” she said._ _


	5. Flow

_Cause you got that vice that I like_  
_No matter how hard I fight_  
_It takes a hold of me_  
_And every time I say it's the last_  
_Before I know it I'm back_  
_It takes a hold of me right now_ [[x](https://youtu.be/KIHHetqD9hM)]  


  


  


The problem was that the cargo hold -- or more accurately -- the holds in a freighter like the _Jackal_ were expansive. Towards the aft, there was the docking bay where two Z-95 Headhunters were kept. Past it, towards the bow and up one level was the enormous main area, broken into the primary storage area and the conveyor system section. Obviously there were secret compartments, a fact obvious to both Mara and him, but their expedition last two nights hadn’t unearthed anything.

They could have started a specific search for them, but Mara had wanted to familiarize herself with the cargo they’d picked up and unloaded at Lothal those first two nights. What they’d found was that the crew had picked up surprisingly little. All supplies that more or less seemed to be for immediate crew use. Nothing, it seemed, to ship elsewhere.

When Mara commented on his surprise at the observation, she’d managed to piece that as a new part of the crew he wasn’t given much more than the smallest glimpse to much of their inner workings. 

“I do know they’re heading to Ryloth,” Luke had offered. 

“Pick up,” she muttered. “They’re going to pick up cargo. Sentients. Probably Twi’lek.”

He nodded. “It’s still more than five days out and we have to drop out of hyperspace before we get there. We have some time before we stop them.”

There was a flicker of something in her eyes. He thought maybe it was his usage of “we,” it was hardly the first time he’d felt that spark. It reminded him of when he’d seen her return to the ship after whatever her business had been at Lothal. He did mean to ask, but somehow he doubted she’d be forthcoming, even if she’d eased up slightly. 

And she _had_ eased up. Luke had expected more resistance when he had brought up her mistake with the cuffs two nights ago, but somehow, she’d come to see his side of the matter with less persuasion than he'd thought would be needed. Not only that, she'd had no problem trying it out again. They hadn’t had cuffs to practice with, but he’d had her try to activate the blade lock mechanism on her lightsaber without depressing the button. It was roughly the same type operation. He’d left her to it that night while he went to dinner, training bond firmly in place. 

The rush he felt when she triggered the mechanism, made it impossible to keep the smile off his face, a fact not missed by the pirates over dinner. 

“And what’re you grinning about?” Strilath asked over a mouthful of his stew from the other end of the table where he sat with Mahas and Enif.

He really should have schooled himself more, but through the training bond, Mara’s satisfaction was infectious. Luke ended up shrugging, the grin not quite unpeeling itself off his face.

“This stew,” he began. “It’s not that bad.” Not the best lie he could come up with, but he didn’t care. He was more interested in the fact that Mara’s perfectionist streak was in full display as she shut the blade down and centered herself to try it again, aiming to get it down in less time.

Luke sent her that she should consider stopping for food. There were some packets of crackers and dried fruit along with bantha jerky in the compartment beside the desk.

An involuntary feeling of distaste drifted out from her.

He sent over an image of some ration bars, accompanied with his own feelings of distaste.

Her response was something like _...busy_.

Luke fought the impulse to laugh, mainly because he recognized that kind of near obsessive fixation on a new skill to master all too well.

A fit of violent coughing drew Luke back to the galley. Strilath called out from his end of the table, “You alright there?”

Kruk stopped and took his tray to the disposal, still coughing weakly. “This slop,” he managed to say between coughs.

“It’s not that bad,” Galen retorted from beside Luke. “Should be a little spicier, but--”

“Boss wants you at the bridge, Kruk,” Bareth interrupted coming in. “Nav comp encrypt.”

Kruk nodded and followed Bareth out.

Luke had already stopped paying attention. She almost had it. He stopped himself from hinting at where she should channel the pressure.

Mara shifted the moving pivot. There. The locking mechanism disengaged. Her satisfaction this time was tempered as she scanned over at the chrono. Just a couple of seconds faster than last time. She needed to decrease her --

“Hey, hey Stonn.” Dreiz was snapping his fingers in front of his face from where he sat across from him.

Luke blinked. 

“Daydreaming again.” Mahas made a disgusted noise. They went back to talking among themselves.

Luke focused on Dreiz. “What?” 

“Did she steal from you?”

Luke stared at him, puzzled. “Who?”

Dreiz sighed.

“Rugger,” Dunn clarified. “I checked my cabin before coming over here and she took all my credits, my ID too.”

“Mine too,” Galen added glumly. “Probably gonna sell them as fakes.”

Luke thought for a second. Mara had taken their credits and ID cards? What for? He filed that question to ask later and muttered a “Yeah,” intending to leave it at that.

The pirates didn’t seem in a mood to cooperate. “Thanks to that stupid mess downplanet we didn’t even get enough time to get girls. Now we don’t know when we’ll get another chance.” Galen muttered.

Luke thought for a second, maybe he could get something more out of them about their plans. 

“But we’re going to Ryloth, bound to be a supply depot,” he said, trying to ignore the sordid underpinnings of it all.

Dunn seemed to brighten. “That’s true and tailhead pussy is dirt cheap.”

Luke’s stomach roiled and he pushed his food back any semblance of appetite gone. More so when Jeshi came over to the seat beside Dunn with his tray and said, “You know what they can do with those brain tails--”

“What are we picking up there anyway?” Luke interrupted loudly. “You guys are awfully hush-hush about it.” He had his suspicions, but confirmation would be helpful.

Dunn laughed and inched forward, his elbows on the table. “It’s the boss, Bareth, Stri.” He jerked his chin in Strilath's direction. “And Kruk. The old timers. Always like things being a surprise.”

Luke turned his head in Strilath’s way. “Isn’t better to know enough to prep?”

Strilath grunted. “With these loudmouths? No. If you’re any good you’ll do your job _when_ we ask. Might as well not be here otherwise.” The was an undercurrent of warning and Luke nodded.

“Can’t blame a guy for being curious,” he muttered.

“Curiosity killed the lothcat,” came Enif’s chortle from across Mahas. Luke rolled his eyes in his direction. 

“That’s what Arten would’a said anyway,” Dunn muttered, his mood coasting down. Luke stared at him. How old was he anyway? Couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen. “Can’t believe he’s dead just like that.”

“Happens, runt,” Strilath said. “Not the first. Won’t be the last probably.”

“I know that,” Dunn snapped. “But this was not some job or even a fight. It was a fraggin’ mugging. Karkin’ stupid to bite it like that.” Before anyone could say anything else, he pushed his chair back and threw his food in the disposal. He swiftly strode to the door and slapped the panel, exiting the galley.

“Should have dropped him off at Manaan,” Mahas muttered. 

“Oh, not that again,” Strilath said with a sigh. “The only reason _you_ are here is that you saved the boss’ skin.”

Surprisingly, Mahas lifted his hands. “He’s too young, Stri,” he replied conciliatorily. “Look at him, all rattled. Over a mugging too.”

“He was rattled earlier,” Jeshi added from their end of the table. “Maybe there is something to it. Ever since--” he stopped, his eyes landing on Luke.

Strilath didn’t seem to notice the break. “Dunn has done his share, he’s not gonna get cut out-- I don’t want to hear it. So he’s a little rattled. He’ll toughen up. This next job is going to change things for us.”

“This mysterious job.” Luke made himself smile. “That we won’t know the details of until we do it.”

Strilath’s smile couldn't be described as anything but ugly. “Exactly.” He went to dispose of his plate, and Luke checked on Mara who was in the middle of her fourth or fifth try, having shaved several more seconds from her initial time.

Luke left the galley a short while later. Mara was taking a well deserved break, sitting on her desk and unwrapping a ration bar when he came in. She’d had a couple of questions on technique, and he’d gotten her to try a simple meditation routine to recenter for a bit. She’d never been fond of meditation, even at Wayland, but she agreed. 

He was liking this new more receptive version of her.

That done, when they came out of it he taught her a basic refreshing technique. By then it was well into the ship’s night cycle and they used the vents to get back to the holds.

They’d gone over some of the cargo in the first section, an area he was familiar with and there seemed nothing amiss from when he’d done his shift with the crew. Going through the second section took them most of the night, but apart from more basic provisions, they’d found nothing of note, and returned to the cabin just before the day cycle began.

“Nothing in the crew cabins you went through earlier either?” He asked once they were back.

Mara shook her head. “I didn’t go through all of them, but I think my chances of finding anything these are even less. Our best bet is finding one of those secret compartments.”

That was probably true. “You should get some rest. We’ll keep trying. Something is bound to turn up at the holds.”

“What about the refreshing technique?”

He shook his head at her. She couldn’t seriously be thinking to keep going. “It’s more of a stop gap.”

Vague amusement filtered through her sense. “No, I mean what about you? You’re just...going to go on with your day? No sleep?”

“Oh, I can go for some time with it. I’ll re-set it after meditation. You’ll be able to do that the more you get used to working with the Force,” he added. “Since you’re not as familiar now it could lead to a crash. And that...it’s...it’s not pretty.”

Mara arched an eyebrow and turned her face to the side, dropping her head slightly, her eyes eyes looking up at him. That expression seemed to him a fair approximation of a coy glance, but it only seemed to happen when she zeroed in on an opportunity to prod at him over something. “You speak from experience?”

He nodded with some embarrassment at the memory. “I never pushed it when it really mattered, but I did try to find the limits when I first got the technique down.”

There was a smile in her eyes, brightening them to an unbelievable green. 

“Really? How did that go?”

Luke gave her a half smile. “One minute you’re running diagnostics and the next...” He borrowed her phrase, “lights out.”

He’d never heard Mara cackle before. “Not while flying I’d hope.”

Luke shook his head. “In a crowded hangar.”

Her eyes widened and a real laugh left her, slightly husky, her lips curving into a full smile, teeth and everything, not those tiny crooked ones she often used. He wanted to stop and stare. 

“Really?”

Luke forced himself to keep going nonchalantly. “I’d just as soon forget. Not that Antilles and them would let me. Wedge Antilles,” he clarified, “he’s--”

“Oh, I’ve met him,” she said dismissively. At his curious glance she continued, “Through Solo at Abregado-rae. It’s a good thing all of your flying is better than your undercover skills.” Mara dug through her satchel for her datapad. “Antilles couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d shown up wearing Rebel fatigues.”

Luke snorted. She had a point there. Han had complained about it a couple of times too. “Yeah.” He passed a hand through his hair, feeling the hour. He gestured to the 'fresher. “You want to go ahead? I’m going to meditate.”

He could see her about to protest, but she just nodded and undid the training bond. She grabbed her things and went ducked into the ‘fresher.

Luke settled for meditation, disappointed that they hadn’t found anything not the firegems, not any clues about Meyna, nor of the pirates’ plans, but he and Mara had come to some understanding. The night hadn’t been a whole loss.

When he came out of the session, Mara was on her side, sound asleep. Flightsuited and with that jarring hair in a tightly braided bun, there was still a sense of rigidity to her, as if even as she slept she was ready to be up and in arms in an instant.

That’s what she’d been trained for, he reminded himself. Responses hardwired into muscle memory. 

He thought of the bit with the cuffs earlier. It had surprised him to see her tap into her anger. For all of Mara’s prickliness, he’d always had the inkling that she didn’t see anger as a path to power, even when she’d acted from it there’d always been a dense layer of calculation above. 

Luke supposed he should be relieved, but he didn't think her attitude was born of experience down the morass of where anger could lead. There was the discomfiting thought rather, that this was _taught_ to her by the same training that had imbued her with deadly reflexes and kept her knowledge of the Force at a bare bones level. Why exactly that was, he wasn’t sure. To remind her of her subordinate status?

But now without those limits came new possibilities...and dangers. Luke thought he’d done reasonably well and Mara had met him half way, but it was just a small indication of the challenges to come. He wasn’t naive enough to think that she’d continue this receptive if the job soured for her. Even if it didn’t, once they were back at Coruscant, things remained as vague as ever. 

His motivations had been clear when he’d contacted both her and Karrde about the Smuggler’s Alliance business. It had been Han and Leia’s brainchild at base. The New Republic was still in sore need of cargo ships, even after the Thrawn campaign. Once they floated the idea of a smuggler's alliance there seemed no way to make it legitimate -- as legitimate as anything involving smugglers could be-- without tapping into Karrde’s infamously large web of contacts. Karrde himself had mentioned that not just anyone could protect his interests in that and naturally, the first thought had been why not his second in command? From there, Han, Leia, and even Karrde assumed that if anyone could convince Mara to go 'respectable' in Han's words, it would be Luke. He _had_ agreed she'd be excellent at it. They hadn't even had to press.

But maybe there’d been something else, because ever since he’d seen Karrde carrying Mara’s limp body out of the Emperor’s throne room back at Wayland, he’d been reluctant to see her vanish from Coruscant and bury herself underground. Without any incentive to stay, he suspected that was exactly what she would do.

After all she’d come to know, he wouldn’t even blame her.

It didn’t change that without her, as things stood currently, the difference between last of the old Jedi and first of the new was a matter of semantics.

Luke sighed softly as he dug around for his clothing. This job had to go well then. For both of them. There was no more compelling argument he could muster. 

\--

Mara woke up in the late in the day cycle. Since they were still in hyperspace there was no use in checking any messages from Karrde. Mara busied herself going over the notes she’d put down on what she’d found in the holds. Like she had the day before, she’d made an impromptu breakfast/lunch out of a ration bar and went to shower. While she could go skulk about the hold again, it wouldn’t be so easy with pirates wandering around the ship. She'd been staying put these past few days. 

Mara didn’t particularly enjoy sitting around and waiting for the night cycle, but she had to grudgingly admit that she’d covered more of the holds with Skywalker these last two nights than she had the other two times she’d been alone, even without his knowledge as part of the crew. They’d start looking for secret compartments tonight, so she could use the extra pair of eyes more.

If pressed, she’d also have to admit it wasn’t that much of a burden being around Skywalker either, even in these close quarters. Last time they’d been forced to spend this much time together, every day felt like navigating through an asteroid field with a blindfold on. Hard to really interact with someone when there was a voice screaming murder in the back of your skull, no matter how decent the being was. 

Compared to that this was almost...relaxing.

He didn’t pry. He didn’t ask for details about her job and he didn’t feel the compulsion to fill the silences with empty words, something she’d discovered a deep loathing to since she’d started work for the government. 

True, it had only been a couple of days, but they had passed breezily enough. He’d given her a pointer or two for the two techniques he’d taught her, but mostly stayed out of her way. As she practiced though, she could feel how pleased he was about the whole thing. If she thought about it too much, some skepticism over the supposed point of training surfaced. Too much. She tried not to dwell.

Training, too, was different from how it had been before with the press of crisis. Not having the ever-present anxiety of becoming some insane Jedi’s plaything did wonders for one's outlook, Mara thought as she changed into her other flightsuit. 

Or maybe it was that she didn’t have the voice’s screeching. Whatever the any case, she _felt_ her increase in focus more clearly whenever she drew from the Force. Mara had managed to lower her time operating the mechanism down to a half of what it had taken her. Even meditation was going well.

She rebraided her hair and pinned it up, mind flipping to Skywalker’s attempts to get her to meditate in Wayland. The voice simply hadn't _shut up_ long enough for her to see what could come of it. In fact, the two times she’d tried it, it had only seemed to make the voice _louder_ and Skywalker must have sensed something because he'd never pushed the issue. Now, coming out of a session she’d been feeling oddly energized. Refocused. It wasn't bad at all.

“I think of it like calibration,” Skywalker had volunteered without her asking. “Our minds are so far from where our physical selves are in our day to day thinking it can obstruct our connection to the Force. You line up your mind with the rest of you and the Force flows easier.” 

Well, she wasn’t going to look a gift bantha in the mouth. Mara arranged herself into a sitting position on the bunk. It was helpful and she would use it...and Skywalker too, while she was at it. Nothing wrong with that; she was planning on being of use to him too. The whole thing was gearing up to be mutually beneficial, and if for some reason it didn’t, she had a couple of exit strategies lined up. 

The waiting time gave her the opportunity to exercise her skills. Mara closed her eyes, centering herself. Skywalker had mentioned she might try working on sensing next, she’d gotten better at it during Wayland -- thankfully that and simple manipulation of objects seemed to be areas where the voice didn’t interfere. 

Since the Thrawn crisis, she’d had little opportunity to keep working on her skills. Her time at Coruscant had been dominated by meetings trying to smooth feathers between opportunistic smugglers and recalcitrant trade officials, the fruits of which had yet to be seen. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to a return to that.

She stretched out with the Force, catching herself searching for the pirates. That, she knew, was the wrong approach. 

“Try not to actively look for something,” Skywalker had told her ages ago. “There’s a lot you might miss when you do. Try to just keep yourself open to...see whatever the Force shows you.”

Mara had almost laughed then. It’d been antithetical to all her past training -- what time was there for some energy field to _show_ her something?

Skywalker had continued, “It’s not that different from being attuned to danger. The Force shows you that, once you feel the warning, then you can narrow your perceptions. It’s like that for everything too. Warnings,” he’d said with a smile that bordered on conspiratorial, “just tend to be louder.”

When he put it that way it became more understandable. He was not a bad teacher either. Hard to believe he might not have trained anyone else before. 

Bringing herself back to the present, Mara tried to steer away from intention, imagining herself as some sort of transceiver antenna. The life signatures emerged quickly in her awareness, and she let them without pressing in, suppressing her impulse to immediately begin the work of differentiating them. Skywalker had taught her it was a matter of looking at the differences, but if the optimal approach was for things simply to let things _become_ clear...she had the luxury of testing out the theory now.

To her surprise, they did...and quickly, too. Mara could pick out individual signatures and a general location of them. It was early evening and most were at the galley. She felt a prickle as Skywalker detected her reaching out, but didn’t react through the Force other than that, giving her space. 

She had already shifted her focus on the two presences at the bow of the ship. The captain and his first mate, she recognized, and they radiated concentration. She supposed they were plotting the next series of jumps. If she could get the sense of when, she’d be better prepared to send Karrde an update on her progress.

But either that was too fine a distinction, or not something that she could catch. After a few minutes, she recognized her concentration teetering and stopped. 

Mara sighed and rubbed at her forehead. She looked at her chrono, dinner would be over soon and the pirates would scatter to their cabins or move into the lounge. She may as well meditate until then.

\--

They’d pulled themselves down from the vent shaft to some crates at the back of the holds. Mara had clipped her small glow rod to a makeshift headband. He lit his own once their feet were back on the deck.

“Obviously if they’re in the business of trafficking sentients then they have to have a hidden compartment to keep them,” Mara said, picking up their thread of conversation from what they’d begun broaching when he’d joined her in the cabin after dinner. “But they can’t lock them in an empty room. It’s got to have some sort of pressurization system too.”

Luke frowned. He’d been trying to figure out himself what the likely spots for hidden compartments could be, but nothing seemed to raise any flags the last few times his shift had been at the holds. “What are you thinking?”

“This is an Action IV,” Mara pulled out her datapad with the specs and passed it to him. “Of course heavily modified, which makes this more guesswork than anything else, but there’s a void just in front of the power cells right behind the hold.” She gestured to the screen, then behind them.

He felt his eyes widen as he looked in that direction. “In front of the engines? That’s too dangerous -- the radiation alone--”

“You could reinforce it with a lead-polymer substrate,” Mara mused, but she didn’t sound convinced either. “That’s what radiation zone assault troopers were outfitted. Less damage to cargo.”

He wrenched himself away from the horror of it with difficulty to parse it out rationally and counter, “But that’s just protection for a time." Incidentally, he was reminded why he resigned his commission long ago. "The radiation could make them sick in hours.” He still couldn’t bring himself to think of sentients as _cargo_ , much less phrase it that way so he opted for, “That would kill their profit line.”

Mara met his eyes and he thought he read some acknowledgement there. “So maybe that’s not it. The _Wild Karrde_ is this same model.” Her gaze unfocused slightly. “And Karrde only has a section of the holds outfitted with a life support system. Seemed like the _Jackal’s_ entire hold as far as we’ve seen has a life support system.”

“I’ve...” he began cautiously, Han would _kill_ him if he gave any of the Falcon’s near endless list of secret modifications away. “I’ve seen hidden compartments under deck plating.”

Mara pursed her lips. “Sure. So if the crew is picking up slaves in Ryloth and there is some hidden compartment under the deck, then it has to be somewhere where there isn’t cargo.”

“That’s most of the space,” Luke pointed out. “We saw they didn’t load much from Lothal.” He thought for a second. “We could look for wiring. Like you said, if there’s a separate pressurization system in play there’s bound to be something that doesn’t look right.”

"I’ll take the rear of the holds -- the conveyor section. You take the front.”

It was a starting point, so they set off with the glow rods. After, a while he felt Mara reach out through the Force. He went back over to the rear where Mara was crouching in the area between the conveyor system and the primary storage area. She was looking down at the plating, vibroblade in hand, trying to dig it between the plates.

“You found something?” 

She looked up. “This area is slightly raised. The scuff mark patterns too...”

He took a step back training his glow rod on the patch Mara was crouching by. It was true the pattern of the marks differed from the other plates beside them concentrating on the side closest to where Mara was trying to jam her blade in.

“If it opens with a complicated mechanism,” she grumbled, “we’re out of luck. And it seems to.”

“You think this is a...trapdoor?”

“I don’t know.” Mara turned her head to the side as she stood up. “But there’s something off about it.”

“How thick is it? We could try cutting through it.” Luke checked his chrono. “I could find a welder here. We have time.”

She seemed to ponder it. “I got a microwelder.” She tapped her satchel.

He looked at her strangely and she flashed him one of those crafty smiles. "Bag of tricks." The smile faded quickly and she sighed. “We can’t keep wasting nights. Cut along the dividing line between the plates.” She held out a hand and he passed her his glow rod.

When he was done cutting through the plate, he and Mara pushed it aside and peered down...into a narrow space, maybe half the size of a supply room, less. 

Mara jumped in with both her glow rod and his and began fiddling with a rectangular apparatus at the end.

“An electrical junction box?” he whispered as it came into view. 

“Yeah, but who the kriff puts a sithspawned junction box under the here? This is not accessible.” Her voice lowered to an angry mutter. “Code exists for a reason.”

“If they’re trying to hide how much power they’re really using...” Luke ventured, although hiding connections here seemed like a terrible idea to him too. “But this is not as accessible as it should be even if they can open it readily--” 

“That’s a power line,” Mara interrupted in a tight voice. He followed her eyes to a thick wire in a bright red color that ran down from the junction box around the wall, and near the edge of where the deck plate had been. “Runs right under the deck.” 

Luke was already grabbing his glow rod from her outstretched hand and rushing over to the cargo hold’s control room as alarms began to blare. The control room was locked but he’d accompanied Arten to do a couple of hardware checks. It was just a matter of fiddling with his memory for the code. Once inside, he scanned over the furiously blinking lights in the monitoring panel with a sinking feeling. 

He immediately reached out. Tonight’s watch was Dreiz who was up at the main deck three levels above and he didn’t seem aware. Yet. Luke sent out his senses further. The rest of the crew was two levels above in their quarters, asleep.

Mara popped in through the door. 

“Life support power line,” he blurted out. “Backup’s already kicked in though.”

“Shavit,” she hissed. “On their way?” She scanned over the screens. 

“Not yet. It’s a local issue, so chances are the sensors uplevel won’t make that much of a fuss for a bit. We have some time. Not a lot though.” 

Mara swore. “Shut down the power to the whole system that regulates the hold. I’ll do a splice.”

His head snapped in her direction. “What?”

“The training bond would be a good idea right about now,” she called as she dashed out.

That, at least, he could agree with, if anything for the sake of efficiency. Luke stretched with the Force and fixed the latch...to get immediately get bombarded with her plans.

Mara couldn’t splice the broken line with the power on. The backup system was independent from the main one -- so their current conditions would hold no matter what. If they turned off the primary system, fixed the broken line, and turned the system back on, it should revert to the primary life support as if nothing had happened. Should. 

Maybe.

For the moment there was no better plan and they needed to shut off that alarm. Mara ran back to the compartment while he went through the system shut down, easy with the cargo hold’s bare bones requirements, his senses reaching out in case Dreiz caught wind of anything amiss.

Luke signaled to Mara via the Force once the system was down and followed as she went through the motions. His knowledge of electrical work of this sort was limited. He caught a nervous strain from Mara herself. She hadn’t done this in some time.

Mara was going more by basic precepts than intuition -- peeling back the sheathing, cutting to an undamaged stretch, stripping the wires, taking care not to cut the strands --

His danger sense twinged. Dreiz just saw the alarm. He was on his way.

Luke tried not to leak this to Mara, but it bled through. She sensed her pulling on a calming technique as she slipped the shrink tube in place, then connected the wires. It would take Dreiz a bit to get to the holds from the bridge. They had some time yet.

Mara repeated the process on the second set of wires. Almost there. She pulled the shrink tubes fully into place over the new wire connections. 

Dreiz had just exited the turbolift.

Luke darted away from the control panel and shut the door the control room. There had been no time to start up the system again. 

Mara was just finishing up wrapping electrical tape on both wires. She looked up once she was done, wanting to get out of the compartment. Luke turned off his glow rod.

 _No time_ , he sent to her just as the door hissed open. She crouched to turn off her glow rod that she’d placed on the ground between her feet. He fluidly slid into the narrow space behind her, reaching out with the Force to pull the panel gently over them. 

Luke caught a swell of anxiety from her part. If she’d made a mistake, an electrical fire in this enclosed space would not be fun. There was no way to tell if the prickle of danger was from the crewmember or some oversight.

Luke sent a vaguely soothing feeling her way. He’d been in more desperate situations.

He still turned in her direction, the motion angling him between her and the wire as Dreiz ambled over to the control panel. Luke felt no particular rush or alarm from him.

His positioning himself in front of Mara wasn’t subtle enough, apparently. She jostled to get back into her original place, irritation flaring up to anger when he grasped her arm to keep her where she was, shifting to take enough space so she had no room to move towards the wire. He felt her shoulder digging hard just under his collarbone as she tried to shove her way back and pressed her back against the opposite wall.

Throughout Luke kept his concentration on Dreiz, encouraging Mara to the same. She stopped struggling as she did.

Dreiz started up the system again. There was a series of beeps. He let out a disgruntled sigh. Luke still felt no alarm from him. A few breathless moments later he felt him depart, the door hissing shut behind him. 

He waited for a few moments more before he ducked his head to murmur by Mara's temple, “The primary has to be back online.” 

Luke felt her nod. This close her forehead brushed by his cheek when she did. He felt... other things too, the rise and fall of her breathing, the leftover tension making it slightly fast, her warmth seeping into him from the press of her body against his. 

His hand was still grasping her arm and he let it fall, quickly taking a few short steps back to put some space between them, not enough to be entirely comfortable in the narrow space, but enough to be more...discreet.

His thoughts flashed back to Myrkr before he could stop himself, realizing they were too at the forefront of his mind, crossing over unbidden into the bond.

Mara’s amusement drifted to him.

“No blasters on me this time,” she whispered.

He chuckled quietly. “Not pointing at me anyway.”

“You don’t trust me, Skywalker?” There was that casual tone from a few days ago, rare and...interesting. Entirely too interesting to think about at any length here scarcely inches from her, so he went ahead and shut that thought down. 

“Oh, we’re past that, no?” he replied lightly. “But if you have wire cutters and shrink tubes and a lightsaber in your bag of tricks...” He shrugged. “Just a reasonable assumption.”

Mara made a disapproving noise and then he felt her crouch. There was a click as she turned on the glow rod. “Huh.”

Luke shifted, but with Mara on her hands and knees and the chaotic play of shadows, he couldn’t see much of where she was looking.

“There’s a crawlspace here.” He felt her move past his legs and was gone.

He squatted, looking inside the space, not that he could see much but the back of Mara’s legs. She had taken the glow rod, so he lit his, the space was too narrow to get anything apart from a better view of her behind -- a thought he didn't linger on. This fact was confirmed when Mara grunted and there was a loud sound of tearing fabric, followed by enough foul cursing to make a Hutt go wide-eyed.

“Trouble?”

“This kriffing oversized flightsuit and this space.” Mara pushed herself back out quickly. He thought he might have glimpsed a long rip in her flightsuit from her shoulder to her lower back, but she’d turned around too quickly for him to fully make it out.

“Find anything?”

“There’s more of that passageway. Might open to what we’re looking for.”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to follow it down. It’s not a ventilator shaft. You don’t know what’s in there.”

Mara looked up the three feet above her to where the edge of the compartment was. “I didn’t feel any heating systems -- there shouldn’t be. It really does seem like another ventilator shaft.”

Luke followed her gaze to the deck above them. “If it leads to a room where they confined beings -- you could end up stuck.” He paused and jerked his chin up towards the deck. “Need a boost out?”

Mara considered it for a second then nodded.

“Go on. Jump, I’ll push you up the rest of the way.”

“Oh.” Her tone indicated she hadn’t expected him to use the Force for some reason.

That reaction was puzzling, more so because he caught a bit of resistance, an undercurrent of _making things easy_ and a self-directed chiding for it that he wasn’t sure he understood. For that reason, he stayed quiet, only shifting so she could be in front.

Mara jumped and he boosted her up enough that she could pull herself up the rest of the way. 

“I’m going to need you to get into the supplies for me,” Mara said once he’d gotten himself out of the compartment. She started towards the supply area in the ship’s locker.

“What do you need?”

“The some nontoxic oil, lubricant, whatever.”

“What for?”

Luke caught her sideways glance. She spoke the next as if it were obvious, “That passageway is too cramped, but with some help...”

An incredulous laugh escaped him. “You’re kidding.”

Mara gestured to the access pad on the supply closet they’d gotten to. “What gives you that idea, Skywalker?”

“Too dangerous,” Luke muttered, but input the code. The door opened and he trained the glow rod on several bottles. He reached for one and handed it to her. He changed his mind half a second later. “No, wait, look there’s got to be--”

“This’ll do.” He looked back to find Mara stepping out of her flightsuit, which she promptly shoved at him, now clad in her undershirt and some microscopic shorts in some lightweight fabric, the satchel on the ground next to her. 

He stared on as she squeezed the contents of the bottle onto her left hand and proceeded to slather it up one arm then the other focusing on her shoulders. Was she serious? She bent and slathered the rest on the top of her legs.

“My guess is that there’s a larger compartment underneath, maybe cabin sized. Some of the power lines in that junction box have to feed to it. I doubt that there will be anything to lead us to think Meyna was there--”

“Like a cell of some sort,” Luke nodded, “but I just don’t think--”

It was Mara's turn to nod as she walked back. “My sense is that they won’t be _that_ sloppy, but it’s worth a try.”

“I have,” he started very carefully as she dropped back into the compartment. “A bad feeling about this.”

She gave him a half smile. “Can’t be worse than lightsabering clean through the life support power line.”

Luke sighed. “I knew it was a matter of time --”

“Relax, Skywalker. There was no way you could have known.” She was looking into the crawlspace. “Follow me from the deck, let’s see if we can find where the actual opening is.” She pushed her head out and he caught her amused look accompanying her sense through the bond. “Try not to cut any life support wires this time.” 

“You told me to!” he hissed after her.

Mara had disappeared from view, but he was positive she was smirking.


	6. Working Bodies

__  
__  
_Walk you to the counter, (What you got to offer?)_  
_Pick you out a solder, (Look at you forever)_  
_Walk you to the water, (Your eyes like a casino)_  
_We ain't born typical_ [[x](https://youtu.be/ImJq1V7v31E)]  


  


  


_This_ ventilator shaft was by far the most cramped ventilation shaft Mara had been in. She’d never been particularly claustrophobic even before she’d started conditioning against it way back, but there were always a couple of situations she’d encountered which went a notch past unpleasant. Crawling on her forearms past piping, wires and access manifolds, her satchel dragging behind her, covered in dust that clung to her oil-slicked arms and shoulders was one of them. 

The double vision of the bond helped. In the rush to get it up, it was less smooth than it’d been the last couple of times Skywalker had pulled it up for training. When it was a cleaner latch, moving between Skywalker’s mind and her own was a more fluid operation. This was similar to when when she’d first set it up, the clumsiness initially manifesting in a simultaneous perception of not just Skywalker’s mind and her own, but also a strange dissociation, perceiving herself from _outside of herself_ as some strange amalgam, not quite her own self perception and not quite Skywalker’s. 

That was what it felt like now.

 _Because of the edge -- that’s what it is_ , she felt Skywalker point out. Not in words or images, but she caught it clearly, as well as the offer to fix it.

Mara sent out her reluctance. 

If it were just that alone -- if the bond was only that odd dissociation -- it’d be terrifying, but it wasn’t. She could ignore it and focus on her own self perception, or she could see what Skywalker was up to. The options made all the difference, she found.

Right now, maneuvering through the tiny space didn’t necessitate that much focus; her environment had remained largely unchanged since she’d started her crawl, so that kind of mental distance was actually...not bad.

Mara sensed Skywalker found it a little strange that she’d like that kind of distance from herself. 

She couldn’t help reflecting that they were sharing a mental link so she was privy to an itch that he was scratching on the side of his neck -- it was _all_ weird.

His humor rippled out. She had a point there. Some self-consciousness rose up; that wasn't the sort of thing he'd been exposed to with Yoda.

Yoda? His former master, Mara gathered. The glow rod she was carrying showed she’d come to a grate. She stopped and tried to look down, but the mesh on it and a large, thick pipe that lay maybe a foot or two below her blocked much of her view.

In the deck above, Skywalker was busy looking for anything suspicious in the area.

Has to be an access panel somewhere, she thought. Or something that _looked_ like an access panel to somewhere else.

Skywalker was sifting through something. She had the impression it was a...memory, but the gist of it was beyond the bond’s terrain. 

His attention was back, and he headed to the main access panel for that section of the hold, an area crammed with crates holding basic supplies. His thoughts came quickly and with startling clarity. He’d heard of instances where behind the the simplified circuits of a keypad there was extra wiring that led...he fiddled for some tools from his belt and a penlight.

He unscrewed the panel to open it with some apprehension. There was definitely some out-of-place wiring that tucked itself back behind the circuitry with the rest of the connections. That meant --

 _Fake bulkhead_. Whether it was his thought or hers was difficult to tell.

Skywalker had set to following it down, putting the tools away. Plastoid probably, not durasteel though made to look like it. If it was plastoid-- he took his vibroblade out. It punched through easily. 

She felt his concern that it might take a bit of time. He didn’t want to risk cutting through any more wires. Mara bit back a smile.

Some time later he’d managed to make enough of an opening to slide a hand in to feel for wiring, finding some, he continued punching a larger opening until he’d carved out a section of the wall. He slid the piece over and lay on his back, looking in to get a view of the space inside. 

Pulling some adhesive from his belt he linked the wires he found and awkwardly gathered them and pasted them to the side. He popped his head back out and thumbed his lightsaber on, and still with some reservation, carefully sliced an even section of the wall and slid that over too. Behind it with the wires linked and pasted to the side, another panel had come into view. This one was near the top of the opening Skywalker had carved out, but against the real bulkhead about three feet behind the plastoid wall. 

If that was the case, Mara wondered how the pirates accessed the door. There must be some other control somewhere.

Skywalker thought that it could be remote operated. By the captain maybe.

That seemed likely. Given how paranoid the pirates were it stood to reason that only a select few would know how to open. 

The space Skywalker had made was enough so he could lie on his back and have some reach, even if it was still tight, the hole he’d opened maybe just over three feet high, about two across. Skywalker was getting his tools again to access the panel and see how to open the door to the compartment. 

Mara sensed his discomfort as he worked. What he knew about hotwiring was limited to what he’d picked up from Han and tech crews here and there, hardly comprehensive, even if it had helped him in a couple of tricky situations...

Mara sent over a prod. If hotwiring was an issue she could give pointers, but it’d be easier to do so if he could smooth the bond out. 

In the space of a heartbeat, the bond tightened. There was no longer the odd double vision, she could easily step fully into his sense impressions and his surface thoughts. This was how she got a visual of the circuitry, just after Skywalker’s relief. The circuit panel didn’t look unfamiliar at all, which meant the mechanism to open the concealed door should be just as straightforward.

Mara had to grudgingly admit Solo’s teachings hadn’t been shabby. Skywalker set to work removing the main wire bundle, checking for the primary power supply to the hydraulic line to open the door. He peeled the insulation back from the wire and connected the power supply wires, linking those to the activation wire. The panel's display turned on, showing him he was on the right track, similar to accessing a login window. For the key...he peeled the insulation of the actuator wire back and very carefully touched the ends of it to the connected power supply wires.

There was a hiss of hydraulics nearby. 

Skywalker pulled himself out of the opening he’d made in the fake bulkhead and pulled the panel he'd cut back. Walking towards where the hiss has come from he found an opening leading down to a supply ladder and a corridor.

Now that he was inside Mara felt better about moving forward. The grate seemed to be made of durasteel and she was short on patience, so she pulled out the lightsaber from her bag and ran it through the ends of the grate, thankful that a lightsaber didn't emit any heat. She shut the blade and pushed the grate down. She would have preferred to pull it beside her, but there was no space and the metal would surely burn her.

Mara darted her head out with the glow rod in hand. It was a large room, maybe as large as the first section of the hold, empty save for a box the size of a coffee table at a side. The ground was a good twelve to fifteen feet below where she was. The safest thing would be to use the thick pipe below the shaft to swing down. She threw the rope with the hook and pulled. The pipe seemed to hold. It was the right size and it wouldn’t have to bear her weight for long anyway. She swung over --

A screech, the sound of grinding metal and a crash.

It was difficult to know whether the spots in her vision and the throb at the back of her head was from her fall or the alarm Skywalker was blaring into her head.

 _I’m fine_ , she shot back as soon as she could. Her glow rod was maybe a few feet from her but there must be some motion sensors because dim lighting along the sides of the room had come on. There was a puddle near her left arm and beyond it near the wall she saw that the pipe had...collapsed.

That shouldn’t be. She grunted her exasperation. Not up to code _again_ , bad piping. Idiots. All of them.

Mara lifted her hand to sniff at the liquid. Hydraulic fluid. Wonderful. She could add that to the mix of sweat, dust, and engine grease all over her.

The pipe had landed on the plasteel box at the side of the room, crushing its edge under it and she walked in its direction. Shock spiked through her as she recognized it, feeling the warmth it emitted, and inhaling quickly, she marshaled her focus.

The surge of anxiety must have been a great deal more alarming than her initial state because Skywalker tightened the bond further and she caught his own apprehension as she began lifting the box, suspending it in the air. She didn’t think any of the fluid had gotten into it. She really hoped not.

Firegems were known to be viciously reactive. Most famously with hyperdrives, but she’d never heard about anyone getting any closer to find out.

There was plenty of wryness in Skywalker when he indicated that at least they knew now where the firegems were.

Mara wondered why he wasn’t in the room yet, and shifted her awareness to his side. 

There were, apparently, double doors from the looks of it on the other side. 

She felt her brow knit. That wasn’t usual. In fact double doors were an engineering --

Skywalker caught on at the same time she did. _Airlock._

His ensuing wave of outrage that almost twinged her concentration making the box slide down a bit. 

She sighed with some exasperation. The pirates were smugglers of beings. Slavers. All of the tools smugglers use, the pirates used. When you risk getting caught by security what do you do? You drop your cargo. Whether they are living sentients doesn’t matter. Not to them. All just cargo.

Skywalker pulled on a calming technique and drew herself away. What had he expected? 

Those thoughts weren’t getting them anywhere, so she concentrated on keeping the box up. Mara walked around the room, noticing that the door was on the far side. The airlock seal had to be by the slide of panels on the ground. The mechanism to open the airlock would also seal the ventilator shaft obviously. 

But all of this meant the door probably reinforced durasteel, it would take ages to cut through it with a lightsaber. Skywalker had come to the same conclusion.

She wondered about an access pad. 

Skywalker’s reluctance poured out. This was an airlock. He didn’t want to risk it. Couldn’t she climb out again?

Mara looked towards the fallen pipe. There were others around it, but who knew the condition they were in -- climbing up while holding the box up would be difficult enough, if she fell again, that would be that. Not to mention the hazard of leaving the box in hydraulic fluid where it could come into contact with the gems.

She scanned over the crack at the side of the box. It was possible that the gems were intact, since the box seemed to be plasteel but if by some accident one of the gems was cracked and it came into contact with hydraulic fluid that could set off a chain reaction. Maybe. She wasn't sure, but that wasn't the kind of thing she wanted to test.

An inquiry came from Skywalker after a moment. Could she find a way to seal the pipe?

The question made no sense. What was the use of sealing the pipe when the liquid was already on half of the room?

He pressed. 

Mara thought for a moment. She had the lightsaber and some industrial sealant patches. It was sloppy but workable. She reached further to see what he had in mind and laughed in disbelief.

“Really?” she blurted out loud, shocked in spite of herself. 

She got the sense that it was going to take a while, but probably less than hacking through the door -- and even if they got the door open, there was the issue of what to do about the gems. She felt more hesitance from him; he’d need a clearer idea of the room.

Skywalker was going to have to tighten up the bond further. She sent over her assent and concentrated on keeping the box aloft as she felt more of his consciousness seep into hers, nudging her attention slightly towards the ground to take stock of the thin layer of liquid below the pipe.

Mara felt a tendril of Force wrap around the energy the was channeling to keep her hold on the box, bolstering her grip as an offhand gesture from him while his concentration set on the viscous fluid below.

If she thought about it, there was something unavoidably strange about having someone else’s mind wrapped this tightly around yours, someone who was helping you hold something above telekinetically from an entirely different room. She made herself focus back on the box, only letting herself be pulled away whenever he indicated he needed a better look at some part of the room. 

She had the vague feeling that he didn’t need to nudge or ask either, he could simply _direct her_ to where he needed, and that thought suddenly sent an icy shudder down her back, the box sliding down, Skywalker’s hold on it slowing its plunge down. She quickly fixed her hold on it, even though it remained slightly shaky.

Skywalker pulled away, probably sensing some something. His inquiry this time seemed more puzzled than anything else. Thankfully, whatever that thought had been, it had been seated outside the bond’s terrain...or Skywalker had been too busy to make note of it. 

With sound irritation, Mara recentered herself.

He resumed examining the room. A few minutes later Mara felt a pull on the Force, a gathering of power.

Slowly, the liquid on the ground began to flow towards the side of the room. The movement was so gradual that Mara would be tempted to think she was simply imagining it, but every minute, the liquid moved faster, first in droplets and then in a creeping stream, fast and faster until it pooled itself into an perfectly circular puddle by the wall and held itself there. 

Only Skywalker's prod through the bond woke her from her shock. Could she check how much liquid is left on the ground in the rest? 

Mara wiped her hands on her undershirt and crouched down to feel the flooring. Dry. She examined the rest with the same results.

Shaking herself, she supposed she should go back to hacking off a piece of the pipe. 

He gave her the equivalent of a nod and she went to her satchel and pulled out Skywalker’s lightsaber --

 _Yours now_ , she received clearly.

Mara ignored the correction. It was enough with having to divide her attention between the box and her cutting through the pipe. She placed it on the ground and from that piece with the point of the blade she sliced a smaller section that she could seal into the opening. 

His curiosity flowed out as he followed her use of the blade, along with his surprise at her use of the point to make the cut. She paid no mind to that either as she let the metal cool a bit, using the respite to strengthen her hold on the box again. Skywalker was still bolstering it even while he himself was holding the hydraulic fluid in place.

Mara signaled she was done and she sensed the pull on the Force acquire the same intensity as before. The liquid streamed up the pipe slowly at first then picked up speed, all of it going _up and into it_ , the image among the most bizarre she’d seen -- and she was no stranger to the bizarre.

Skywalker indicated he was done.

She brought the section to the pipe and used her sealant patches on it. They were good for anything from pressure leaks onwards, so they should do here. Skywalker gradually let go of the Force while she made sure nothing seeped out.

Once she was certain the fluid was contained she got her glow rod and gently Force pulled the box of the firegems towards her to give it a closer look. There was a cracked area on its side, but it didn’t look more banged up than that, at least. She set it down slowly as far from the fallen pipe as possible. 

After she was done, Mara looked up at the ventilation shaft. Getting out wouldn’t be as easy. All that occurred to her as she undid the rope around the fallen pipe was climbing up part of the way through the pipe and seeing if her grappling hook could take her up the rest of the way.

Skywalker offered to start on the door.

Mara looked at her chrono. It would depend how much time it'd take him.

She felt him think it over. The thickness of the doors was a factor.

Not a great idea, she decided. They’d be emerging from the night cycle in a little over an hour and if anyone came here any time soon, they’d know there was foul play right off the bat. Any number of reasons could be given about a downed pipe, and the crew didn't seem like the type to really examine things closely. They might not even have a chance to come down here before they were stopped anyway. If they did though, a lightsabered door would immediately raise flags.

Mara gingerly went on the pipe, climbing as high as the incline would let her and tossed her grappling hook. It took a few tries, but finally she thought she had it hooked enough that she could try to rappel up...but she wasn’t sure how stable the hook was. She tentatively reached out through the bond.

She felt Skywalker pull on the Force in response. He had it.

Mara tested the rope a few times to make sure it held, and then made her way up. She was back in the ventilator shaft before long and crawling back towards the compartment. Skywalker was sitting beside the panel waiting for her and she stretched out the tightness of her cramped muscles. 

She couldn’t see much because he'd trained his glow rod on the compartment and he was heavily shadowed, but she still felt his eyes on her and an aggravating prick of self consciousness that she kept well away from the bond. She could smell herself -- that fragrance of rank cargo hold, a mix of metal, engine lube, and sweat. Jobs seldom had her smelling pretty. 

Her jaw tightened. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

On that thought, Mara lifted herself back out, ignoring all the crud on her and the tightness of her cramped muscles, the bruises and scratches she’d amassed. 

\--

“Let me see where the door to the room is,” Mara said tersely once she’d pulled herself out of the edge of the compartment, ignoring his outstretched hand. 

Luke sensed something just outside the purview of the bond, nothing serious, but a distinct unease all the same.

He didn’t have time to really ponder it. Luke stood up and Mara followed him to the opening, climbing down the built-in ladder to the corridor which stopped at the access door. He was going to climb down after her, but she looked up. 

“We’re approaching the end of the night cycle. It might be a good idea for you to be ready to seal it back as soon as I come out so we can get out of here.”

He looked down at his chrono. She had a point and he'd just been there, the area was clear. “All right.”

Through the bond, Luke kept tabs on her as she continued her descent, thinking there was little more he wished than to be able to trigger the airlock and dump the gems out. Everything would be simpler.

He felt Mara agree. She would think of the implications of the firegems being in the hold once she was rested and back on safer ground. 

As Mara walked down the corridor to the sealed door, she sent back that perhaps once they familiarized themselves with the mechanism, but to trigger the airlock would-- She broke the thought when Luke's senses tingled with alarm. He instinctively turned off the glow rod.

Luke slowly looked over past the crates to where the door to the cargo hold had hissed open. 

Someone had just walked in. 

Who was it at this time? Luke stretched out with the Force, as he did he felt Mara step fully into his perceptions as she had when he was hotwiring the panel. 

The entrance was a good thirty feet away and Luke was on the floor in the midst of an area packed with crates against what seemed like the bulkhead. That area was only maybe about a couple of meters from the opening that led down to the airlock. Mara processed it at lightning speed.

If the hidden door was activated by some remote control, she didn’t want to risk getting either caught or trapped, and then she was sprinting towards the access ladder. 

Luke finally recognized the presence. Rennek, the equivalent to their IS tech-- Dreiz must have gotten him up thinking there'd been some control system issue. He was heading over to the control room just across from the entrance. That would give them some time. As Luke angled himself back under the open spot on the fake bulkhead so he could hotwire the opening closed, Luke stretched out a bit more with the Force, if he could get a read of exactly what Rennek was up to...

He was jarred and started at feeling Mara squeezing his arm urgently, indicating that he should move over so she could seal the panel faster.

Luke heard boots echo, far but unmistakably. Rennek had exited the room, but was still in the area -- and then his thoughts momentarily scattered as Mara slid herself above him, lying on top of him and slithering her way over him and into the opening. She plucked the penlight from his hand and popped it into her mouth to examine the connections. She slid forward a bit more and shifted to the side, extending an arm, the outside of her shoulder grazing his cheek.

Luke wrenched himself back to an awareness of the tech, not the press of Mara, who slippery and smelling of engine grease still managed be immensely distracting, all the more so because underneath concentration on the wires she was blaring...self-consciousness. _That_ was what he’d first felt when she’d left the crawspace.

He fought the impulse to laugh and dragged his focus back to Rennek. Again.

“He went back into the control room,” he whispered, trying to ignore rise and fall of her chest, quickened by the surge of adrenaline. 

She jerked up slightly, from the bond it was clear that he’d startled her. Not a smart thing to do given the delicate operation she was completing, he thought with an inward wince, but he sensed that she’d hauled her concentration back to the wires and heard the hiss as the opening to the hidden room closed. 

Mara turned off the penlight. For a few tense seconds they waited to see whether Rennek had heard it. He hadn’t seemed to. Mara was about slide herself off Luke when they both felt a flash of warning.

Rennek had just left the control room.

He was still a ways out, so Mara crawled back over Luke and off him. He moved away from the opening and they adjusted the panel. Luke knew she would have preferred to seal it, but they had no time now. 

Senses trained towards where the tech was, they crept near the bulkhead towards the area where the ventilator shaft they’d used was. It was the easiest part, considering that the towering crates in front of it made it readily accessible. 

There was a sharp sound as one of the loading droids near the back of the hold came on and they sped up their trek to the crates. The droid lights meant Luke could turn off his glow rod, which he'd been keeping at its lowest setting. Still attentive to Rennek who had gone back into the control room, Luke took the front he started his climb as the droid came closer to their section. It was one of those harmless binary loadlifter droids, built to move cargo and nothing else, no complicated AI to speak off, nothing to be alarmed about, but he felt Mara on edge. Her wariness ratchetted up every time the droid made a loud noise, the exhaustion from the night beginning to wear on her.

The spaces between the crates were narrow, something to their advantage when they were moving. It also alerted them to where the droid was transporting his cargo. He must be clearing up space as part of routine programming for this time in anticipation of work in the holds. Luke easily climbed back up the crates he’d lined up to get from the ventilator shaft to the holds. He turned to look as Mara steadily made her way up with some effort. It wouldn’t take her long, and he slid himself up the ventilator shaft, turning to track her path.

With a low thud one of the crates the droid was moving hit a crate near the one she was climbing on, making it unstable under her feet. Luke saw her lose her balance and jump -- not high enough to grasp the vent. He felt the instant she realized she was about to to drop and the accompanying spike of cold dread. He was rushing to reach down, but he was too far to grasp her arm. 

But not too far to use the Force.

\--

Mara felt a jerk and then she was flung in the air hard, pulled into the vent, somehow gathering enough impulse to collide hard against something, then something else, the sides of it? She wasn’t sure. Stars danced in her vision and she felt a hot sting in one leg-- must have caught on something-- but she was well outside the pirate’s view at least and not on the ground, relief mingled with her daze made her vision grow fuzzy for a second and she felt herself slump down.

There was movement by her arm. Feeling like an overloaded processor trying to boot up, she slowly lifted her head. 

“You okay?” Skywalker whispered, looking up at her worriedly. The bond tingled with the same concern. 

Her head still didn’t feel that great and the bond wasn’t helping. Skywalker’s hands were by her head and she made a vain effort to protest as he gingerly probed for any wounds.

"We need to move." Urgency flared through the bond.

Mara made herself nod and drew focus to herself, pushing off the daze. When it receded she realized she was still on top of Skywalker, against him shoulder to thigh, their legs tangled together. She pushed herself back and off quickly, her leg giving off protest. 

“Go,” she whispered gesturing for him to go ahead.

Mara didn’t know how much time passed before they got to Skywalker’s cabin. The tiredness and the growing list of scratches and aches made it seem much longer than it'd been initially or any of the other times she'd gone. 

He jumped onto the desk easily and looked up. She stared down the drop with some trepidation. With the new gash she was sporting in her leg --

“I’ll help you down,” he offered.

Mara sighed. It was better than adding to her catalogue of aches, even if she smelled like engine parts. She swung her legs sluggishly over the opening, and began lowering herself down gently. She expected him to use the Force as he had to get her into the vent, but his hand went up behind her knee, then around her back as she slid herself down. He was using the Force to distribute her weight or stabilize them, maybe both, she lacked the focus to determine which one. She slipped a little from the remaining oil and sweat on her skin and both his arms came around her middle for a better hold, just as hers reflexively came around his neck.

That was...too close. She yanked her face away with a grimace and a blurted out, “Ugh.”

It occurred to her maybe a split second later that the reaction might be misinterpreted and he _was_ helping her...and then she grimaced for an entirely different reason.

Humor rang through the bond as Skywalker chuckled. 

“I’ve smelled worse,” he said, helping her get her footing.

“Doesn’t mean it’s pleasant.” Mara sat on the desk and checked her chrono as he got off it. 

She had turned to examined the scrape on her leg as Skywalker went to the 'fresher. She thought he would go ahead and start his morning routine, but he came back with a washcloth and a small box of first aid supplies. 

“Thanks.” She looked at him quizzically, taking both. “You should go get ready." She began dabbing at her leg with the washcloth. "They’ll be calling you soon.”

Chagrin seeped out of him as he stared at the scrape. “That was my fault -- that and the head -- I should have been more precise when I caught you.”

She couldn’t help the incredulous look that came over her face. “A banged head and a scrape over ending up twenty feet below is a _great_ trade off,” she noted after putting the washcloth beside her. “No apologies needed.” Mara lifted her head. “Although I could use -- “

“Shower.” Skywalker flashed her a grin. “Yeah, I’ll be quick.” He stopped and turned back to her. “You want to try taking down the bond?” He paused and turned his head. “Without giving me a headache?”

She glowered at him. “Exaggerating. That didn’t cause a headache. I was _there_ , Skywalker, and I’ve undone it before.”

He only looked at her expectantly.

Mara stretched her back, a motion he seemed to follow with unJedi-like interest, even if the bond just showed him waiting for her to undo the connection. She was tired and imagining things. She closed her eyes, searching out for the latch, and gently put slight pressure until it dissolved. 

She opened her eyes. The mental connection was done. Her head was all hers again.

“Much better.” Skywalker beamed.

Mara laid back on the desk with a sigh and closed her eyes.

“That’s a nasty gash. You’ll need to bandage it.”

She grunted.

“Take the bed.”

“Not this filthy.”

“They have laundry--”

She gave another grunt without opening her eyes. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

\--

Luke didn’t need to wake her up at all. By the time he was opening the 'fresher' door, she was already sitting up and rubbing her face. He went to where he’d kept his clothing and handed her a spare flightsuit.

“We left the one you had behind,” he explained. "And the glow rod. It should be under the crates. I don't think anyone will notice anything off about it."

Mara nodded. “I’ll get another one the next time I go out. Flightsuit and glow rod...” She yawned and walked past him towards the 'fresher, favoring her good leg. 

“Hey,” he called out. “I wanted to thank you.”

She looked at him oddly. “For what?”

He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile. “You found the firegems.”

She gave a dismissive wave. “I just happened on them. That was the easy part. Now we have to figure what to do with them, when you’re going to call your people, whatever. We’ll talk later.” A couple of steps and she was in the 'fresher.

The ship's intercom sounded. “Rise and shine, girls. Time to get your slop.”

With a sigh, Luke went through a quick refreshing technique. He probably could squeeze in a short meditation session and just grab a ration bar if he needed to. 

This made him the last one to show up at the galley some time later shortly before his shift. The mood hit Luke unexpectedly, an ominous mix of shock and with an undercurrent of fear. Immediately, he felt himself tense though no warning followed. Whatever was going on wasn't dangerous. Yet.

While Luke had expected to be scolded, the pirates were all gathered around the table, their trays largely untouched. Even the captain was among them, his face equally pale and rigid. 

Luke didn’t even go for his tray, instead grabbing a nearby chair and sitting down.

“What’s going on?” He thought he saw Dreiz swallow hard.

The pirates looked at him for several beats, silence thick among them.

“It’s Kruk,” Galen said after a moment. “He caught something.”

Luke felt a prickle of dread in his words, intensifying at the swell of fear in his sense. “What do you mean ‘caught something’? What'd the Emdee say?” he named the droid the pirates kept in their primitive med bay. “He's sick?”

“No,” Bareth replied. “He's dead.”


	7. Viscosity

_You want the day to fit to a soundtrack ___  
_Get a story get a life and get back_  
_You've got nothing to shout about_  
_You're over and out_  
_I'm checking out of my senses, buying best defenses_  
_Fired up on free-will, hang up, hang up, hang up_ [[x](https://youtu.be/CFegHe83OhE)]  


  


  


“He was fine just a couple of days ago,” Strilath muttered. “Picked up a bit of a cough here and there, but it’s not like Lothal’s air is the cleanest.”

Luke was still reeling at the news. Kruk was dead? He’d just seen him at the galley last night, coughing up a storm sure, but Strilath was right. Lothal’s atmosphere was a far cry from the artificially purified and filtered one of the Core worlds. Some people were more sensitive to that. “Did the Emdee say anything?”

“Piece of junk is too old.” Enif shook his head. “It didn’t even catch whatever it was when Kruk went in for a cough suppressant. Dunn said he had fever meds in his cabin. Took some. Probably got them from the Emdee late last night.”

“Where _is_ Dunn anyway?” Luke asked, realizing the younger man was absent.

“The boss sent him to his room. Too shaken up,” Strilath answered. “He’ll get over it.”

Luke caught Mahas’ shake of his head, but one warning look from the captain and the pirate said nothing.

He turned back to Enif. “So Dunn found Kruk? Thought his shift was after mine.” 

Bareth nodded. “We wanted him to do some encrypts. He was dead then, must have happened early this morning.”

Luke thought back. That must have been when he and Mara were digging around that hidden compartment.

“If he caught something at Lothal...,” Dreiz started and found himself unable to finish the thought. “We were with him. Me, Enif, Jeshi and Arten...”

“We had shift with him right after,” Galen added in a tight voice.

The cold at at the pit of Luke’s stomach was reflexive. If there was anything anyone who had spent any time in space dreads other than life systems failure, it was the rare, but just as dangerous outbreak. Anything from the Balmorr flu to Oyla fever, everything had the potential to be ten times worse in the enclosure of a ship. The sudden death of a crewmember in previously good health was never something to be taken lightly.

“Point is do you feel anything?” The captain eyed them all. “We come out of hyperspace in a few days and none you are doing us or yourselves any favors by keeping quiet.”

One by one the crew members shook their heads. 

“Kruk started coughing his lungs out two days ago, right? No one else's coughing like that. You’d think if it was contagious we’d have gotten it too.” Jeshi licked his lips nervously, his uncertainty shrill through the Force.

“Well, the body’s gone, we sealed up his room, and sent cleaning droids around the living quarters. It’s all we can do,” the captain said with an air of finality.

Luke frowned. “Already?”

Mahas snorted at him. “Keep a diseased dead body around? You insane?”

Luke flashed him an irritated look. 

Mahas jutted his chin out. “What the kriff can _we_ find out anyway? Kriff, Stonn have you _ever_ been on a karkin’ ship before? Dump the body and run.”

Luke ground his jaw. Even the Alliance had had sets of internal protocol to follow with this sort of thing. At the very least a baseline of respect to the dead. 

“Even if we wanted to keep it,” Bareth added, “which we _don’t_ , our timetable’s too tight. We’re due at Ryloth early next week. If we’re stopping sooner than the depot or for longer, it better be for something serious otherwise none of us get paid.” 

Luke closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. One of their own dead from some mysterious illness and this didn’t constitute serious. It shouldn’t be surprising. None of it should be surprising anymore.

It occurred to him with some relief that now he knew where the firegems were his task for the NRI was done. Once they came out of hyperspace he could contact them and they could have the New Republic’s security force swoop in to make the arrests. He’d checked in when they’d gotten to Lothal, so they couldn’t be too far. The question was rather if they could reach their midway point before the _Jackal_ took off to lightspeed again. Things could get dicier at the Gaulus sector the system was infamous for pirating and smuggling, and had no shortage of hiding spots.

“Yeah and after we got fleeced by that lockpick--” Enif broke off sucking air through his teeth. The other pirates around him were nodding darkly.

“She stole from you?” Luke blurted out. He kept forgetting to ask Mara about it, but given how much the pirates gambled in general, Luke had just taken it all with a grain of salt. “Really?”

All eyes turned to him.

“What? She didn’t steal from you? She went on a little spree around all our cabins ‘cept Bareth and the captain’s.” Jeshi’s eyes narrowed.

Luke made himself shrug. “Me, yeah, Dreiz, Galen and Dunn,” he mentioned the four who generally had shifts when he had. He should have been paying more attention, but unless something about their destination came up, he much preferred tuning them out. “But I didn’t think she’d go through _everyone’s_ cabins. Thought she’d want to be off the ship as quickly as possible.”

Strilath humph’ed. “Not if that’s what she came for--”

“Well,” the captain interrupted. “If all of you ladies are feeling fine and dandy enough for chatting, then we go back business as usual. Slop and everyone to your shifts. That includes Dunn too, Strilath,” he said fixing the pirate with his beady gaze. “Tell him to get his head back in the game or I will dump him out too.”

Luke started. Was he serious? It unsettled Luke a bit that he wasn’t sure. There was no indication at all from the rest of the pirates’ reactions.

Strilath simply nodded. “Will do, boss.”

“We got no room in this operation for freeloading puffs,” the captain muttered, turning to leave. 

Luke reached out and there was still that undercurrent of shock. The fear had lessened only to a vague nervousness, an indefinable anxiety that was almost palpable in the air, even without the Force.

\--

There was nothing green at the Green Corridor. It was a greasy food stand in Coruscant’s downlevel and its bowl of baos noodles was the best there was in the Core. 

Mara didn’t mind that you couldn’t see the sun from this far down, or the smell of animal fat and ale in the stagnant air all over the “food district” -- mainly an assortment of permit-less shacks which served cheap food for this levels' inhabitants. She was certain the place wasn’t hygienic, but the noodles were so good it didn’t matter. She always stood by one of the high tables off to the side. No one this far down looked too long or too hard, so it suited her fine.

Her bowl was steaming, smelling salty and pungent and utterly wonderful, but the table was teetery. Making sure not to jostle it too much, lest she spill the soup, she dug in. This place even got the noodles’ texture right, not mushy not too hard. All too soon she was done.

She wrapped her palms around the bowl warm bowl, bringing it to her lips. The broth tasted even better than it smelled and then it was done too. She lowered the bowl gently with a stab of loss.

...and found herself staring at a flightsuited Skywalker across from her.

“You need to wake up now,” he said suddenly.

She frowned. _Of course_ , that would be the most recent form her superego would take with its unwelcome injunctions against chemical and additive laden, dubiously-handled delicious food from illegal vendors.

Mara turned her eyes skyward to the dense web connections and tubings that made for sky on this level and sighed. She brought her gaze back into this newer, most ridiculous manifestation of herself.

“Your stomach lining is tougher than duramentium. Let’s just enjoy something for once.”

He blinked at her. “No, it’s really me. You need to wake up now.”

“What?”

“Now, Mara.” The urgency in his voice made a prickle of warning seep into her. 

Wait. That was her Force sense.

Skywalker slammed his hands on the table. “Now!”

Mara jerked up awake, rolled right off the bed and into a standing position. She was on the desk in the next couple of seconds, one hand yanking up her satchel, which she’d left on the desk. The wave of adrenaline had her pulling herself up and into the ventilator shaft in the next instant. She heard the whir of servomotors just as the cabin door hissed open and a cleaning droid rolled in, spraying what smelled like some serious disinfectant on the floor. Her leg was throbbed in protest, but she ignored it.

There were voices just outside. “Is it done yet?” Mara recognized the voice of Mahas Crofin, the tall one with the aquiline nose and perpetual scowl on his face. 

“With your cabin? Yeah, it’s doing Stonn’s now. Why? You gonna check if the droid stole your stuffed bantha?”

“You’re a riot, Dreiz,” he retorted flatly. 

Dreiz Sedric, Mara recognized, thinking back to her files, the one with the wrestler's build.

“Then why the paranoia? Rugger’s gone. You ain’t got anymore credits to steal. None of us do.”

“Why do you think she stole my credits?”

“Get off it Mahas. She stole everyone’s credits.” Sedric’s voice changed slightly to an edgier pitch. “Didn’t she? Be really weird if you had your credits while no one else did--”

Crofin laughed. “If I wanted your credits I wouldn’t break into that garbage pit you call a cabin, I’d play you for sabbacc. None of you can play worth shavit. I’m not in this for your cred-chips and you know it. Kriffing lump sums.” He scoffed. “That bitch can keep her change.”

Mara bit back a snort. They were labeling her a thief? She could _work_ with this.

Sedric’s tone went serious. “The thing with Kruk didn’t shake you none?”

Kruk, Mara thought. That had to be the dead pirate. Kruk Burwat.

“Bad luck is all.”

Sedric’s voice lowered. “You know what Dunn is saying--”

“I don’t wanna hear it -- boy’s not tough enough to cut it. Been sayin’ so since the beginning. Boss should leave him once we drop into realspace. Whatever depot we get to.”

“Dunn was alright at the beginning. A death mark’s serious stuff.”

“He should get used to it. Old enough to knife a man, old enough to live looking over your shoulder. Just how it is.”

Mara checked her chrono. She’d slept four hours, good enough. She winced a bit at her leg. It was not taking too kindly to her crawling around like this.

“Besides, all of that is going to change,” Crofin’s voice lowered even more and interest piqued, Mara crawled a bit forward. 

“Oh? You know something?”

Mara was straining to hear, but only a low indecipherable murmur got back to her. She ground her teeth. There had to be techniques for augmenting hearing the way she’d seen Skywalker augment his jumps, but she didn’t know them.

“...Shaddaa...cargo...invisible...”

Nar Shaddaa. The Smuggler’s Moon. 

Her brow furrowed as she tried to pick up more.

Incredulous laughter. Sedric’s voice became easier to pick out. “That might work.”

Maybe she didn’t have to pick out anything more. Mara thought back to what she’d heard over the years. Most slave trade had the Hutt trade capital as a hub, the reason being that Nar Shaddaa operated in a gray area between legality and illegality. The Hutts simply had too much financial power to play by everyone else’s rules. That had been true in the times of the Old Republic, it had been true during the Empire’s rule, and it continued to be all the more so now. It was simpler to give the Hutts a warning that they keep all the dirt to themselves rather than do clean up. There was a saying that if you dug deeply enough into any given system’s trade, you’d find Hutt slime.

Mara’s lip curled into a sneer. Ryloth for pick up and a drop off at Nar Shaddaa. That was the plan, and not an unpredictable one at that, necessarily. But Hutts were infamous for skimming and taking gruesomely large cuts. Small time pirate outfits like this seldom dealt with them. Hutt business partners of late, she knew, were not your run of the mill smugglers -- they were entities specializing in mass quantities. Bulk. In return for keeping such hefty profits, Hutts offered their flunkies something that precious few other brokers could. 

Protection. 

\--

Luke keyed in the second cycle of the system diagnostics on the hull, senses still on alert. 

As far as Luke could tell Mara had left just in time. While a maintenance droid might not sound the alarm, he felt Mahas and Dreiz at its heels. She’d gotten into the ventilator shaft and was somewhere above not too far from the crew quarters. He reached out through the Force. She was leaving the crew quarters, heading to a spot just above the lounge area. 

He breathed out a sigh of relief. There was no one there, Mahas and Dreiz were in the crew quarters, the captain and the first mate were on the bridge, and Jeshi and Strilath were in the engine room. The rest of were doing routine checks as he was.

Luke thought she might stay there, but she was on the move again, still around the lounge and galley. The morning’s meeting flashed into his mind. The whole crew was on edge, every time anyone so much as sniffed, there was a ripple of concern. 

Luke hadn’t minded it at all when he consulted his schedule and found he was slotted to go through his shift alone. Throughout the morning he’d kept tabs on himself, enough to be reasonably certain he was fine. He was a little more concerned about Mara -- he had some experience with healing, but it was hardly the area he was most confident in especially when no one knew what Kruk's illness had been. 

With a few hours reflection though, it didn’t seem like whatever Kruk had was contagious. Two days should have been enough to see the symptoms in someone else. Maybe the pirate had even been sick from _before_ they’d gotten to Lothal. 

Luke had joined up only a few days before and never registered anything odd about Kruk's condition. He was reminded of Dunn naming Kruk as part of the ‘old timers’, the original pirate crew, Luke assumed. 

As such Kruk had been privy to the plans -- like the captain, Bareth and Strilath...and Kruk _had_ done some work on the nav computer. Luke thought back. Encrypt. He’d been called to work on encrypting the course just this morning. Smugglers routinely used that sort of thing so that there’d be no accessible records of where they’d been. 

Would Kruk have a record of that? Even if he didn't, he might have something else. Maybe some evidence tying them to Meyna's disappearance. Mara had mentioned she hadn’t gone through all the cabins. Kruk’s being sealed at the moment might be a good opportunity. 

The diagnostic beeped that it was done and Luke went over the numbers. He sat back as he ran the secondary program.

There was some risk in it, but the pirates _had_ sent cleaning droids in before sealing the cabin and if he was going to contact NRI in a few days, anything he could find might make a difference for Mara. She had nothing as far as he knew, which she was taking surprisingly in stride.

And if there was some sort of contaminant, he’d figure it out. Wouldn’t be the first time. If that was the case, most of them had it anyway. No way not to here.

That decided, he sent his senses out to check where the other pirates were. Dreiz and Mahas were now at the galley, probably having an early lunch. The rest were unchanged from their positions. Luke checked his chrono. Shift change wasn’t for a couple of hours yet, so chances were no one would come up to where he was until then, maybe not at all. 

Making sure to note when the diagnostic would finish, Luke left the room. Thanks to Mara he had a pretty good sense of the ventilator shaft paths on the main level. Kruk’s cabin might be sealed, but he was pretty sure he could access it by breaking the seal the pirates put over the shaft. They wouldn’t be likely to notice it unless they went into the cabin, which he doubted would be any time soon.

Some time later, he was using his vibroblade on the vent cover and pushing it down. He scanned for Dreiz and Mahas, the pirates nearest to him. They were still in the lounge, and he didn’t feel them about to move any time soon. 

Luke scanned around the cabin. Nothing stood out to him, so he went to the storage compartments going through clothing perfunctorily. What interested him were the man’s electronics. If he could just find his datapad...he went quickly over another compartment with personal effects, was about to turn away when he felt something solid at the bottom. 

Luke stopped.

A snap shot blaster. 

He felt his eyes widen. That was normal, kind of. But palming it he felt something else beside it.

A stack of identification cards. 

He rifled through them. All but the captain and Bareth’s were there. His own fake ID was as well.

Luke tried to assimilate it. Kruk was the thief they’d been talking about?

Another thought came to him, and he scanned the stack of IDs again. Arten’s ID was there. Luke stared at the blaster in his hand. Arten had a snap.

Kruk had killed Arten?

Luke didn’t let himself linger overlong. He put the blaster and IDs where he’d found them, quickly going back to the search for Kruk’s electronics.

Had they taken his datapad for security purposes when they sealed the cabin? That seemed to be the case, he didn’t see it anywhere. He checked again for the pirates’ positions. Two were on the move from the holds to his level. He did another pass around Kruk's things.

There. 

The datapad was tucked into the side of one of the compartments. Luke palmed it. Even if he couldn’t access the locked datapad, Mara worked with Ghent, who he knew the NRI was actively courting for his legendary skills as a slicer. Ghent must have taught her something or given her some useful tools.

The pirates began to approach his station.

Luke dashed back to the vent shaft. He needed to get back to the engine room. With mounting dread he realized he wasn’t going to make it. He was going to have to come up with a reason why he left his shift and in this new tense atmosphere selling it wasn’t going to be easy.

He felt a flurry of surprise and irritation as the ship’s intercom sounded. 

“Everyone on shift, we have a cryo fluid leak on the second level. Non priority leave it and get your collective asses in here.”

Cryo leak on the level below? They were a pain, but not particularly dangerous unless they ran undetected for a good while. 

Luke felt Mara’s nudge and could almost imagine her saying, “You’re welcome.” He reached out in acknowledgement, smiling as he felt her near. Her form took shape at the far end dimly lit by her glow rod. 

Luke was by where she was soon. “That was you?” he whispered even though he knew. “I thought you'd go back and get some rest.” He ignored the weirdness of carrying a conversation while they were both crouching.

She smirked a little. “And let you have all the fun?” 

He was reminded of the morning. “Should have stayed nearby,” he answered. “One of the pirate’s dead. They think he was sick.”

Luke didn’t feel any particular surprise from her...but a slight twitch -- of worry, he assumed.

It showed up in her face. “Do they know what it is? What did they do with the body?”

“They don’t. Their med facilities are...crude.”

That made her snort. “Let me guess they flushed the body out.”

He nodded. “Sealed Kruk’s -- that's his name-- cabin. They’re worried.”

“When did he die?”

“Early morning, I think. They’re being careful in case it's contagious.”

Mara shook her head. “If it were, they'd be dropping like flies already.”

“Just be careful.”

“Late for that, isn’t it?” Her lip twisted in one of those edged smiles. “If it’s contagious we all have it anyway.”

“You have--”

“Been sleeping in your bunk for three days and breathing your air.” She gestured to the cramped space between them. “They’re being paranoid. Comes with the territory of living by worst case scenarios.”

“You’re probably right--”

“Where were you anyway?”

Luke hesitated more out of chagrin than anything else. “I was seeing if they’d left his datapad when they sealed the cabin.”

She hissed out a laugh. “In the dead pirate’s cabin? The one who was _sick_. And you try to feed me some line about being careful?”

He scowled at her, coming this close to telling her it’d been also for _her_ sake. 

“Guessing you didn’t find anything. Anyway, you’d better go.” She turned her head gesturing to the floor below. 

Luke didn’t move. He couldn’t. The space didn’t seem wide enough for the both of them, and his exit was at the vent behind her. 

He bit his lower lip. “How are we...?” 

“If you have any leftover notions about comfortable space,” she said dryly. “You better lose them.”

Mara crawled closer, then slid herself against the opposite side, bending her legs so that her knees were tucked to her side, one flat above the other while she propped herself up with her right arm and scooted up with her hip. 

“How’s the leg?” he asked, angling himself as close and flat to the side as he could, keeping his arms up. 

"Fine."

Her shoulder was already pressing tight against his as she scooted forward more. He turned his face already feeling the brush of her hair against his chin, it was that tight of a fit, but also that _this_ tight was incredibly uncomfortable. 

"You'll have to change the bandage when you go back," he murmured.

"I will," she replied offhandedly.

Even last night when they’d been hiding out under the deck, the space had been less narrow than this and when she’d snaked on top of him to work with the wiring, it’d been relatively quick. She hadn’t been slinking along him, pressing up against him with scarcely an inch to spare, so close in fact that it wasn’t so much that he felt her breathe as much as he was breathing _with_ her.

"All this crawling around. It's-it's not good for it."

"I get it," she whispered furiously. "Stop fussing."

"Sorry."

Mara wasn’t smelling like a bottle of engine lube and hydraulic fluid either this time. A bit of the dust from the vents, but it was mostly the earthy smell of her, sweat and soap that reminded him way too clearly of the weight of her on his lap a few days earlier.

He was very happy they didn’t have the training bond up.

\--

She’d turned her head in the opposite direction. Her cheek was grazing his as she continued scooting. Mara didn’t think it would take that long, but she felt Skywalker’s tension. Not in his breathing, that was uncannily steady, nor in the similarly steady beat of his heart. Not through the Force either where he’d sense had gone hazier than morning fog, although that seemed confirmation enough that he was uncomfortable enough to shield. Some of that backwoods modesty, maybe. She supposed it was one thing to share intel with someone and and another for them to find out how close your morning shave was.

...Or was it what he'd discovered in Burwat’s cabin? The threat of illness? He _was_ worried about something, but he himself had agreed with her that the crew was being paranoid. As foolhardy as Skywalker had a tendency to be he wouldn’t have gone into the pirate’s cabin if he were seriously convinced the crew had something to be concerned about.

Just as well, she was absolutely certain there was nothing to worry about. She’d be an idiot to make that clear though.

“I can’t decide,” she whispered after a moment, “if it’s a good or bad thing that I’m not covered in oil.”

He snorted out a hushed laugh she felt along her neck, goosebumps break across her skin at it. “It’s not as effective with the flightsuit on.”

“Ah.” They were now hip to hip, her head was past his, but she felt his hair just under her jaw. He kept it too long. She thought it might have just been lack of opportunity during the Thrawn crisis, but she was beginning to think it was personal preference. Strange for military. Well, former military, she reminded herself.

It wasn’t...unpleasant, Mara thought after a moment’s reflection. She caught herself and shunted the thought. This was no moment to feel any particular way about whatever personal grooming choice Skywalker made for himself.

“Still have that smell in my nose,” she muttered.

His answer came too fast. “You’re imagining it.”

She made a soft humming noise as she scooted further into his space. He smelled like sweat and metal, and there was something reassuring about it, like motivators and actuators, of known quantities and discernible regularities, the perfectly aligned inputs and outputs of a balanced system.

“I suppose you would know, huh.” She gave an inward shake of her head at herself. No such thing. But maybe it was that with the added element of the Force they worked even better together than they had before. He could anticipate her steps and slide into place effortlessly without the constant overhead and prompting that most needed. This was happening without the training bond too. 

Mara got all the way to his hip before he responded, his voice oddly thick. “What do you mean?”

It had been long enough that it took her half a second to pick up the conversation thread. “That we’re all over each other.” A bit of exasperation came into her voice when she did. She wasn’t saying anything complicated. “Wait, are you listening to them or something?”

“What? No.”

Mara clicked her tongue and kept moving. That happened too from time to time, Skywalker going off to la la land. Then in one of those strange Skywalker things she felt it when his attention shifted back to her a second before he spoke.

“I didn’t know you went downlevel for noodles.” 

Mara stopped and turned her head to face him, trying to ignore that her hips were against his chest. She forced herself to resume scooting forward, going a bit faster. “What?” she couldn't help asking. 

“You go have noodles downlevel -- at Coruscant.”

She felt her eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”

“Oh.” She was almost out of his space. “You don’t remember? You were dreaming when I woke you up.”

She remembered waking up, sure, and she did have a faint recollection of Skywalker being involved somehow. But going _into_ her dream to wake her up? A dream she didn’t even remember?

He seemed to home in on her wave of discomfort. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it was completely necessary. It wouldn’t have been if you were awake -- you would have just felt me calling.”

Mara bit the inside of her cheek. She was finally out, just vent tunneling right in front of her.

“Mara?”

She closed her eyes. But this was worse than him being off to whatever plane he got his Jedi insight from. Too close. Suddenly none of this seemed worth it. 

“Mara?” His sense through the Force was not diffuse at all now. The tension she’d sensed was now replaced with concern. Clearly it was about her, a type of self-censure. He'd thought he'd overstepped.

There _was_ some of that. But there was more. It all reminded her that in working with him even in this way, she was outside her element. Mara settled herself. He’d hardly be asking about noodles if he’d seen something more. She’d been doing well.

“The best noodles are downlevel,” she made her tone flippant.

His own was quiet. “Never pegged you for liking that type of food.”

“What type of food?”

He paused. “Chemical and additive laden, dubiously-handled stuff from illegal vendors.” 

She furrowed her eyebrows at the sudden sense of deja vu. 

“It looked good.” There was a soft cajoling note to his voice, and his next came out in a rush, as if he could will ease back by the number of words he threw between them. Extremely un-Jedi, she thought. 

“You were clearly enjoying it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat anything but a ration bar before. I don’t think I’ve had those kinds of noodles. What kind of dish--”

“You should go,” Mara said flatly. “They’re going to wonder.”

“Mara?”

In that same tone she added, “Thanks for waking me.” And she continued her crawl towards the end in the shaft before her.

A wave of something she can’t put a name to poured from him. Disappointment maybe? She didn’t give a kriff. He helped her sure, but she didn’t have to be happy about the means. Too much was at stake.

“Wait,” he called out. 

It felt important so she stopped.

“I almost forgot.”

She heard a dull thud of a hard object placed on the ventilator shaft and turned her head just as he slid it to her. It stopped its trajectory when it bumped against her foot. Mara shifted to grab it. 

A datapad.

“Kruk’s,” Skywalker said. “He worked on encrypts.”

She looked down to the datapad. Burwat’s.

“I don’t suppose you’d have decrypt software somewhere." He let a beat slide by. "Maybe in that bag of tricks of yours.”

She found her lips curling into a slow smile as she looked up. “You never know.”

Skywalker nodded. She couldn't really see for the glow rod’s shadows, but she thought he might be smiling faintly.

She didn’t need to say it, but she did anyway. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Skywalker nodded again, and this time she was sure he was smiling. His glow rod caught the edge of it and it felt like before, easy. 

She should feel relieved that things had balanced out, but instead a clammy feeling descended on her, a tendril of disbelief at herself. This was who she was. Being around Skywalker changed nothing. That he might teach her a thing or two changed nothing. She should thank him for the reminder.

She felt it when his smile faded.

Mara swallowed the feeling down and forced herself to keep crawling forward.

\--

Luke pulled himself down the ventilator shaft to a nearby supply closet just a few moments later. He still walked in earlier than the pirates doing their shifts at the holds. Enif had pretty much gotten to the bottom of the leak -- Mara hadn't made it particularly hard to find -- so it was only clean up. Between both of them it went quickly too, even if Enif complained about the rest of the crew being lazy the entire time. Luke heard him like background noise while he tried to puzzle Mara going from normal to duracrete wall and back in in the space of a minute. Obviously, she'd taken this morning as a violation of her privacy, but he hadn't had much choice.

The minutes ticked on by, shift changes came up, and no one else showed.

“Karkin’ slugs,” Enif groused. “It was an all-ship call too. I know Galen and them are off and that Dreiz and Mahas need to check in at the holds, but they still should be here.”

“Maybe they didn’t hear it.”

Enif glowered his way. “No, they heard it all right. I’m gonna to go down there and let ‘em know. Kriffin’ idiots.”

He stormed right out and Luke followed after him. He didn’t think the situation would degrade. Enif was angry, but not the type of angry to be particularly concerned about. Curious, Luke stretched out with the Force...to get slapped by shock and horror. The further down they went on the turbolift the stronger the feelings got, until they seemed to ooze down the bulkhead. 

As they walked to the holds, Luke could hear frantic yelling towards the back area. He fell into a jog, going past Enif wanting to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. 

Galen was running at full speed. To them, Luke thought, but he just kept going. Enif tried to stop him to see what it was, but Galen didn’t stop. Luke didn’t either.

The pirates on shift were all gathered in a circle in the distance surrounded by a haze of smoke. A loadlifter droid came into view, towering just past the pirates, it’s boxy body barely recognizable. Torn, burnt circuity and the servomotors of its insides were on display, sparks still crackling within. The smell of charred metal thickened as Luke approached.

Luke edged closer with a cough and covered his nose and mouth. 

“What’s going--” he stopped as he neared, realizing there was a prone form in front of them on the ground, half visible through the pirates, between them and the droid. Here, the smell of burnt flesh under all the metal was impossible to ignore. 

Luke felt his stomach twist into knots. That smell carried with it its own horrible memories. The fingers of Luke's right hand curled reflexively.

It was Jeshi on the ground. He could only tell based on what little of the jumpsuit was left. 

“I got the med kit!” Galen was screaming off from somewhere behind them.

Luke closed his eyes.

He was certain it wouldn’t help. 

Nothing would.


	8. Stack Overflow

_I got the trigger finger cocked and I'm ready to rock ___  
_I got the jingle jingle nod on the single I got_  
_the jingle jingle to slide on what I bring you like_  
_I'm the only one you want_  
_(All I want to do)_  
_And you give it to me_ [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0Sv-YOdcLk)]  


  


  


“How,” the captain thrust the word out like a vibrodagger, “did this happen?”

The pirates were all gathered in the lounge again sitting on chairs arranged in a circle around the table. The captain stood at the side closest to the door, Bareth to his right. The mood continued soaked in shock. The silence lingered for minutes after the captain had spoken.

Rennek cleared his throat from the captain’s left a few steps from where the caf dispenser was on the wall. “It was a coolant line that wasn’t secure.”

“Why wasn’t it secure?”

Rennek spread his oil streaked hands. “The droid could have hit something or just the use...”

“Who was responsible for the checks on the loadlifters?” The captain barked. Bareth silently handed the captain a datapad. 

“Strilath,” Galen muttered from Luke’s right.

Strilath’s response came rapid fire from where he sat beside Rennek across from Galen, his sense through the Force sharp in outrage. “Shut the kriff up!”

“It’s kriffin’ true!” Galen shot back. “And now Jeshi’s dead--”

A muscle twitched in Mahas’ cheek, irritation flaring through his sense even if he didn’t speak from his seat beside Strilath.

“‘The kriff’s your problem? You’ve only done two drops,” Strilath growled. “What’s it--”

Galen leaned forward, undaunted. “Could have been anyone--”

Strilath stood up and Luke immediately was on guard as he felt the jolt of rage just shy of flashpoint. The intensity was dangerous, even with the table between them. “Maybe _you_ \--”

“Both of you shut the kriff up!” The captain pounded a fist on the table. “Explain, Strilath.”

The burly pirate's face shadowed. “I checked them according to reqs a couple of days ago. Everything looked fine.”

“It clearly wasn’t! We drop out of hyperspace in a day and I’m down another man! Because of you!”

“I didn’t want this!” Strilath shouted back. “I --” he broke off and raked a hand through his hair, rage dying down to something no less poisonous. Guilt. “Jeshi was one of us.”

“I don’t give a kriff what you wanted,” the captain hissed. “I oughta dump you at the depot.”

Strilath’s head snapped up. “Boss--”

“Don’t kriffin’ ‘boss’ me. First Arten and his fat mouth, then Kruk keeling over, and now Jeshi? Kriff the depot, I oughta send you all gift wrapped back to the Core, for all the hassle you all are.”

“I --”

“Don’t test me Stri. I like you, but not that much. Get the kriff out of my sight.”

Strilath’s face hardened and he pushed his chair back to stand, hitting the door panel with uncalled for violence as he left.

The captain grunted and slapped the datapad back at Bareth’s chest. “Rennek take Jeshi’s shift.” He walked out, Bareth behind him. 

Shaking his head, Dunn spoke up from the side opposite of where the captain had been a few empty chairs over where Strilath had been. “So-something’s goin’ on.”

There was no warning. Mahas was up from his chair so fast it toppled over. In less than a second he’d stuck Dunn so hard he crashed down from his own chair. With a yell, Dunn was on his feet advancing in Mahas’ direction hurtling insults. Mahas stepped forward and slammed his fist against Dunn’s face and that was when Luke finally reached them raising his forearm to push back as Dunn shoved himself forward in a blind rage, broken nose bleeding profusely.

“This doesn’t help!” Luke yelled as Dunn continued shoving trying to get at Mahas, screaming expletives. 

“Kriffin' man up, Dunn!” Mahas taunted, raising his arms.

“Do you _not_ want to get paid, Mahas?” Luke shouted back, still trying to wrangle Dunn away, barely avoiding a flailing arm at his face for his trouble. 

“You haven’t even done a stangin’ drop, Stonn!” Mahas glared at Luke with venom. “This isn’t your kriffin' business anyway. Sit the kriff down.”

Luke shot him a warning look. “I know the boss isn’t happy. You two idiots socking each other is _just_ what he needs.”

Mahas’ face twisted. “Oh, aren’t you just--”

“Stonn’s right.” Galen rose from his chair. “Beating up on the kid isn’t going to change anything.”

Mahas’ head snapped in his direction, voice dripping with contempt. “Was I talking to you--’”

“You shut the kriff up, Galen!” Dunn snapped -- out of nowhere in Luke’s estimation. “Go kriffin' brush your ponytail.”

Galen’s face registered surprise, but he recovered in less than an instant. “I’m not the one bleeding out because mommy’s gone. Watch Stri get thrown out the airlock--”

“Galen! _Not helping_ ,” Luke shouted, now that Dunn was trying to get at Galen instead.

“Boss as soon as shove _you_ \--!” 

“All of you be quiet!” Enif yelled a couple of seats left from where Luke had sat. “Stonn’s right. Passel of idiots”

“Enif’s got that right,” Rennek muttered, shoving his chair back and standing to leave the room in disgust.

Dunn didn’t say a word, but looked away. Luke sensed the anger dying down to the same pallid fear that had marked his sense for days. Finally, he yanked himself away from Luke’s hold and after a scowl in Mahas’ direction took to the exit from the other side of the table, shooting another glare to Galen as he walked past.

Luke went back to his chair. Mahas was still standing at the side opposite where he sat on the table, blaring ill intent his way. 

“It’s just weird,” Dreiz was muttering, sitting at Luke’s left.

“Oh, not you too.” Enif sighed wearily.

“I’m not saying I believe him.”

“So what _is_ up with him?” Luke tilted his head in the direction Dunn had taken. “Been weird since Lothal.”

Enif and Dreiz looked at each other and he saw Dreiz open his mouth.

“Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Mahas interrupted suddenly, leaning over the table. “Until you actually do a job you’re just a stangin’ lackie.”

“Kriffin’ shut up already.” Galen made a face.

“Settle down, Mahas.” Dreiz raised his head warningly. 

The pirate gave Galen a hard stare, but went to get his caf in silence.

Luke ground his jaw. There was something just in his grasp, he saw it clearly in Dreiz’s face. If it hadn’t been for Mahas...

With a calming breath, he stood and went towards the galley for lunch. 

\--

Mara sensed something was wrong. The dank feeling was all pervasive and had been for the past couple of hours. She had an accurate idea where it had come from, but now was not the time to give it much thought. She was still thrown off by Skywalker entering her dream; it would take little to give into worry. At least the meditation she’d gone through as soon as she was back at the cabin had helped; the anxiety was less. She could actually work now.

Mara reached for the dead pirate’s datapad. Ghent had provided her with some datachips should she find herself precisely in this situation. She only had a basic understanding of slices, but Ghent had assured her that what he was giving her was idiot-proof. So she loaded up the first datachips on Burwat’s datapad.

The login screen scrambled. She remembered Ghent telling her the first step was getting through the password lock.

“It’s a simple process,” he’d said. “The program will identify itself as known -- chances are these people won’t have sophisticated software. It should be easy enough to trick their operating system into letting the program in. The datapad will open.” He smiled, that mischievous kid's grin. “And that’s where the fun begins.”

She’d looked at him quizzically. “You’re describing a virus.”

Ghent cocked his head. “Sort of. Something like that. The computer first needs to recognize the program as a non-threat. By the time the computer realizes what it's let in, the program needs to be in deep.”

“And then what?”

“You break the system into pieces. Then reassemble them like _you_ want. This will give you access to the data you're looking for.” 

“Overcomplicated. Why do I care about reassembling the system? It’s in pieces and I’m already in.”

Ghent shook his head a bit condescendingly and she glared at him. His voice was meeker when he continued, “No system will just _have_ sensitive data out for you to grab on the table even if it’s all,” he waved a hand, “a mess. No, that data will be in an encrypted file. That’s where datachip two comes in. You need to make it _your_ mess.”

This was the datachip she was loading up right now. 

“So if datachip one put in a program that got in the system and broke it apart, then datachip two will put it back together through a decrypt. Reassemble as you like so you can read it.” He grinned. “Even if that means making a bigger mess. But it's your mess now. You can _use_ it.”

She’d shared his grin then, reminded that he’d been learning a lot since he’d joined Karrde. Hard to believe their paths had crossed again since she'd saved his skin back at Chibias. Small galaxy. 

Now Mara focused on the screen where a window announced the operation to be about ten percent complete and sighed. It would be some time before it was done. While it was running she went for her satchel. Might as well clean her blaster. She went to slide out the blaster’s power pack, when she thought of the blade lock exercise. It couldn’t be that much different. This was more complex though. She might not make much headway. 

But what else was she going to do? The more she stayed idle, the more she’d end up thinking about the mass of dread that was beginning to cling to the ship like an electrostatic charge. She could try sleeping, she was certainly tired enough for it, but that made her even more nervous.

Mara put the holdout flat on her desk and drew on the Force to lift it in front of her. It was a matter of sliding out the power pack first. The gun teetered a bit in the air. 

She stopped. Taking a deep breath she recentered herself and tried again. The gun lowered a few inches.

She pursed her lips. It was too hard to get that kind of precise grip. Hard to know where specifically to channel the Force to push and pull without guiding herself by the feel of the blaster. She thought for a second, turning her holdout in the air.

With a burst of inspiration, she lifted her hands mimicking popping out the power pack, threading her motions with the Force. She felt it work, just before the power pack slid out and landed on the desk in front of her.

Mara turned her head, evaluating. Not bad. She could always go back to meditating after.

\--

The same tense, dour mood remained like a thick noxious cloud the rest of the day and Luke forced himself to go to dinner simply out of concern the situation might spiral. He needn't have worried, neither Strilath nor Dunn showed up. Mahas himself, thankfully grabbed a ration bar and left. On the other hand, none of the remaining pirates seemed much more inclined to talk. The atmosphere continued to be weighed by tension. Between that and his days without sleep, it was starting to wear and he was relieved when he could return to his cabin and not have to deal with the pirates further.

Part of it was his growing certainty that Dunn and Dreiz were right, there _was_ something strange about this accident. He himself had looked over the loadlifter droid with Strilath when he’d first gotten on board about a week ago. Given the inevitable breakdowns all over the ship, it could certainly be something Strilath had overlooked and since Kruk... could be his head hadn't been on straight.

But it could also be foul play.

Luke didn’t sense anything from the crew that would indicate that it was. He hadn’t scanned over the captain and Bareth, but it didn’t make sense that they’d murder one of their own. Even in terms of bodies, it meant that they were short of workers. 

No matter how much he'd turned it over in his head, he couldn’t think of any pirate who could want to harm Jeshi either. Even Mahas hadn't seemed to have a problem with him. 

As Luke walked to his cabin, he thought again of the snap -- Arten’s -- he’d found at Kruk’s...and the ID cards. What reason could Kruk have to kill Arten -- to steal from everyone? Had Arten known?

Mara was sitting by the desk when he came in, her holdout in her air before her in pieces -- the main body, the blaster components and the barrel. Her small cleaning kit off to the corner. The power pack was on the other side.

Luke stayed near the door watching her for a moment. 

She was trying to reassemble it. He could see even without the training bond in place that she was having difficulty keeping track of all the parts. She struggled to align the slide -- the top of the blaster -- to its main body while keeping both up. With a sigh, she seemed to lose her patience and let the blaster parts come to rest gently on the desk.

“What’s going on?” Mara glanced in his direction, her hands moving fluidly over the parts until with several clicks the holdout was back to its assembled state. She pulled her satchel up to the desk and slid the holdout and the cleaning kit back inside. “Felt like something serious.”

Luke closed his eyes and nodded. “There was...an accident.”

She stood up heading to the ‘fresher. “An accident?” He noticed she was favoring her unbandaged leg. 

“Loadlifter motor blew. One of the crew was right beside it. He...he didn’t make it.”

“I figured something that bad,” she said from the 'fresher as she washed her hands. 

He nodded. “So soon after Kruk...” He let his voice trail off.

Curiosity flowed from her. “You think it was...related? I thought that one was sick.”

“I don’t know.” Luke passed a hand over his face. “When I found out about Kruk, he was gone. That’s what they said anyway. Did you find anything in his datapad?”

Mara shook her head, leaving the ‘fresher, but leaning against its door. “The decrypt program is still running. I checked it a few minutes ago.” She gestured to her satchel by the desk. “You can check again if you want, but it was only about thirty percent through.”

Luke looked over at her satchel. “How long?”

She shrugged. “Several hours. Any idea what you’re looking for?”

“Not sure, but something’s wrong. When I went to pick up the datapad at Kruk’s, I found a snap and everyone’s IDs.”

There, Mara gasped, alarm strident through the bond.

Luke nodded. “The easiest thing to assume is that Kruk killed Arten. That he’d stolen from everyone. I don’t--” Alarm kept spiking through Mara. He stopped. “What is it?”

Her voice was tight. “I could have been...found.” She shook her head. “Your credits?”

He stood and went over to where he kept his things, digging a bit in the compartment. “Gone. I didn’t think to check before.” His brow furrowed as he went back to sit on his bunk. “I didn’t believe them when they said they'd been robbed." He shook his head. "They're always losing credits somehow." Mara's apprehension was shrill as he tried to work through it. "We both went down to the holds when everyone was asleep...or so we thought.” A dull dread would through him. “It had to be then. Someone must have woken up and skulked around here while we were busy.” A near miss.

She cursed softly.

“So Kruk killed Arten and he stole from everyone, and now he’s dead,” he summed up.

“That’s...what it looks like. Except...you have this freak accident now.”

Luke nodded.

Mara turned her head considering. She came over to sit by him. “Could be a double cross.”

“Kruk had a partner, you mean?”

Mara nodded. “Conceivably someone who was stealing while Kruk was offing Arten. Maybe Arten and the guy who just got killed found them out. Might be someone doing clean up.”

 _Clean up_. The expression chilled him. 

Someone who had been in league with Kruk.

“Kruk was sick though.”

“As far as you know,” she mused. “Which is not far. They don’t tell you much. What you _do_ know is that there’s a dead pirate’s blaster in his room and everyone else’s credits and identifications.”

Luke rested his forehead on his hand. 

Mara paused. “Or have you felt something different?”

He lifted his head and shook it again. “Everyone’s on edge. Makes it hard to tell. They were at each other’s throats earlier.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Mahas -- he’s one of the gunners, the tall one who always has something nasty to say -- and Dunn, the kid. Galen -- another gunner, another new hire, the one with the ponytail, got in on it too.”

“Sounds like a mess.” 

“Yeah.”

Mara made a low noncommittal sound. “There’s also the possibility that some enterprising soul is framing Kruk. Maybe before he died, maybe after. How convenient for this to have been an illness -- makes it that much more unlikely for anyone to go through his things.”

Luke squeezed his eyes shut. That made everything much more complicated. 

“I don’t know anything about how he was found only that Dunn -- he’s the youngest -- found him. And apparently he’s shaken up about something...was all the way since Arten...before even...” The chill he felt intensified. “Could be that he knows something.” His eyes slid in Mara’s direction. “About Meyna, maybe. He seems nervous about a death mark.”

Mara leaned forward, her chin on her palm. “A death mark’s normal though,” she muttered. “Even I got a couple.”

Luke slowly turned his head in her direction. There was a scrape at the side of her neck stretching just below where she’d pinned her hair up, and she must have scratched at it or something because the scab was off and it had the glint of fresh blood.

She blinked at him, confusion in her sense, and then smiled. “Joke, Skywalker.” She tilted her head. “They really got you wound up.” 

“Your neck,” he said blankly. “It’s bleeding.”

Mara brought her hand up to cover the area and looked down on the red on her hand. “Shavit.” 

“I got it,” he went over to the room’s med kit for some gauze and a bandage. 

“I got so many of these last night,” she grumbled. “Don’t want to waste supplies on them.”

“You can’t be bleeding all over your flightsuit,” he chided, waving her closer.

She blew out a breath in overexaggerated annoyance but scooted back heavily, bending her head forward so he could get at the wound. “Or your sheets right?”

“Or my sheets,” Luke echoed unthinkingly as he dabbed at it carefully, applied salve, and pressed the gauze over the wound before taping it up, sliding his fingers over the edges to make sure it was without gaps.

Mara straightened up and turned her head to look at him. “Thanks.”

His mind flashed back to Wayland. She’d been sporting a good number of scrapes then as they moved through the forest -- mostly burns courtesy of the acid and vine snakes that spurted out of the tree roots -- nothing like the vornskr back at Myrkr, but both times he’d been sure she’d have rather died than had his help. That had been limited to getting Karrde out. Or blowing up the cloning facility.

The only thing she’d asked for herself was for him to kill her should she fall under C’baoth’s control. 

Luke focused on her, realizing she’d been staring at him. Those green eyes were as sharp as ever and he felt keenly the inches between them, something there in their lock and hold. Regardless of everything.

“The leg?” he murmured.

Mara tilted her head.

“The gash beside your knee.”

“Oh, yeah.” She nodded. “It’s not pretty but it'll be fine.”

Luke broke their gaze. He should have had more control last night; he’d overreacted.

Mara laughed. “I told you, I’ll take that plus the bumps in the head over ending up a stain on the ground.” She tapped him lightly on the arm. “You’re off.” Her expression shifted to quizzical. “I’m the one who almost got found out.”

And true, he felt her worry simmering underneath. “Whoever it is got all my credits. They’re not likely to come back. I left everything where it was in Kruk's room. There's no reason for them to return here.”

She nodded, but he sensed her apprehension holding. She summoned a tight smile. “You still feel off. You’re not going to just...keel over on me, are you?”

Luke shook his head ruefully. “Not yet.” He smiled faintly. “Sorry to disappoint.”

She tsk’ed. “Now that _is_ disappointing.” Was that a _purr_ ? “And here I was thinking of all the trouble I could get into while the cat’s away.”

He stared at her half in disbelief for a second. She was prodding at him again.

“You’re not a rodent.” 

Mara smiled and he had no category for that one, not with her eyes glimmering mysteries like that. “I’m not.”

Not for him to solve.

Even so, it did feel like was as if the he was accelerating with a faulty inertial dampener and he couldn’t move. He wrested his focus back to the subject until he could breathe again. “It’s that bad?”

She jolted a bit. “What is?”

“The gash. Enough that you’re...deflecting.”

Mara humph’ed and turned away, which made him certain. She lifted a hand in a careless wave. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t suppose crawling around in the vents helped it any,” he muttered.

That was her usual scowl when she looked back at him and he was relieved. Solid ground. “I don’t suppose you woke me up so I could stay here and get to know your friends.”

“They’re not my friends,” Luke corrected sharply.

She gave him a sideways glance that he couldn’t decipher. In her sense, there was just irritation.

“They’re not.” He made a face. “I don’t--” he broke off, not even sure of what he was going to say. “We get to some supply depot in about two days. If I could get the coordinates with enough time I can tell the people who sent me and be done with this already. Let NR sec pick up the pieces here.”

Luke felt a surge of emotion from her, a lancing distress.

“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to find out more about Meyna." He met her eyes. "They have the firegems, they’re enroute to Ryloth to pick up slaves, and there’s one of them stealing and murdering the rest...it’s too volatile to let this continue any longer than it has to.”

More anxiety poured from her. 

“Hey.” He touched Mara's back and she flinched. He drew his hand away. “I know you don’t like the idea of coming back empty-handed, but at any point one of them could get their hands on that detonator, if they don’t already, and the whole situation could spiral. All it takes is excess paranoia and a mistake. It’s not worth the risk, Mara.”

It felt like earlier in the vents, like it was just a moment and she’d be shutting the door right in his face. 

But this was the safest course of action.

“We can disable the _Jackal_ , create some sort of diversion, strand them at the depot and wait for NR sec there. Karrde's people can come get you there.”

Her anxiety wasn’t dying down though. He felt her trying to control it, but it eluded her grasp like a flailing power cable.

He thought she’d pull back into silence but to his surprise she simply muttered, “I don’t like failing. I told Karrde I would do this.”

“He’s a reasonable man, Mara. This is completely out of your hands. He wouldn’t you endangering yourself like this.”

Her fingers curled and uncurled restlessly in her lap, but her voice was even. “Karrde owes Baron Vir. He’s an invaluable contact. _He’s_ not...Fine,” she ground out. “I take your point.” 

Mara seemed to have gotten control of her unease. He felt it recede, possibly replaced with her trying to look at the situation from another angle. A few minutes of that and then a heavy feeling came over her. Regret, possibly.

“Karrde will understand,” he assured her.

“Yeah.” Mara stood up and walked over to the ‘fresher to stare at the bandage on her neck.

“Can I take a look at your leg?”

Luke thought she’d say no, but she surprised him by sighing and pulling up her flightsuit leg. The gash ran from the side of her knee from just below it to halfway up her thigh, its positioning making the bandage bunch awkwardly.

“When did you change it last?”

She made an irritated sound. “I don’t know." 

He stared at her. “Last night.”

Mara rolled her eyes at him. “This _morning_.”

He went for the med kit with a long suffering sigh.

\--

“It’s not that bad,” she protested. “I was just tired. I can rewrap it--” 

Skywalker dropped onto his knees to look at the wound. “We could work on a healing technique--”

Mara shook her head. “It’ll heal peachy with just bacta.”

“Why are you so reluctant to use the Force?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“For some things, you don’t like using the Force.” His eyes set on her fixedly. “Physical things. Even if they tire you out...or hurt. You still don’t like using the Force. As if it’s...” he paused, seeming to recall. “Too easy. Cheating.”

She scoffed. “I just don’t know enough.”

Skywalker narrowed his eyes at her. Lie, and he caught it. She inhaled and looked away. “It’s unreliable. Like a faulty blaster or a dull blade.”

He let a few beats pass. “You don’t want to depend on it.”

“I lost it once.” She shrugged, not wanting to delve into the muck of bad memories. “Every time I got a feeling it was coming back, it never did me much good.”

“It helped you at Wayland.”

She scoffed. “ _You_ helped me at Wayland.” She could say it, she supposed, with this distance from what had happened. Even if she wasn’t sure what it meant. 

Mara shook her head and pushed the thought away. 

“I like my holdout, but I know my way around a rifle or a vibroblade or whatever. There’s only one thing to rely on.” She touched her temple and chose to ignore the irony. 

Skywalker nodded and Mara had the uncomfortable feeling as if he were fitting what she’d said into some sort of schematic of her. He should know this already. 

His concentration shifted back on the bandage. He slowly peeled it off and the gauze pads underneath hissing in sympathy.

It really wasn’t all that bad, and the bacta had already done its work. The slightly inflamed area was numb which made the feeling of Skywalker's fingertips grazing beside it along the side of her knee all the more present in her awareness.

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s numb. Besides, I’ve been in worse scrapes.”

“Mm.” Skywalker repeated the process that he’d done with the smaller cut on her neck, cleaning the wound. “You wouldn’t think so.”

She shot him a pointed look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His head darted up and he shook his head as if catching himself. “Nothing. I mean, you just don’t look like you’ve been run through the ringer.” He leaned back slightly. She could see the exact moment he committed to the line of thinking. “I was just a pilot and some ice creature near took my face off. You’re very skilled. That’s all.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Avoiding getting too close to the wildlife is a basic principle,” she murmured before she raised her voice in a more conversational tone, “but Imperial medical centers weren’t shabby.” She met his eyes and tipped her head in his direction. “I guess you know now.” 

He might not have had the level of calcification she got from their go-round with C’baoth, but she was certain he got dragged to a center too. Organa Solo was a key member of the Senate after all. 

As for her...even without Karrde's resources, which were considerabe, she _had_ helped avert the kidnapping attempt on Organa Solo's children. She'd had nothing to complain about with respect to medical treatment.

Skywalker was just beginning to wrap the bandage and ran a hand over it -- down her leg -- carefully but firmly to smooth out any gaps. Her skin tingled and she clamped down on the feeling, but he looked up inquiringly, and she felt herself flush. She tightened a hand on her lap. She was not going to be caught off balance. He wanted to see scars? Fine.

“That’s not to say I haven’t almost been blown to bits,” Mara continued. Her hand went to the zipper of her flightsuit matter of factly and she pulled it down, feeling better centered by Skywalker’s wide-eyed look of surprise when her hands went down to the hem of her undershirt and pulled it up with the same nonchalance. 

Mara saw him swallow as she passed her hand on a thin line that ran horizontally from her side under her breast to just below her sternum, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, but there all the same. 

“Class-A detonator. Thought I could get out of its range. Blocked door. Not sure how much they fixed exactly.” She thought back. “Definitely my shoulder, my collarbone, my some of my lungs, my liver, my ribs...something like that. I lived in a bacta tank for a while. They apologized for leaving me with this.” She shook her head. She traced the thin horizontal line with her left thumb. “The surgeons. Said I could request cosmetic to see about it. Ridiculous.” She scoffed. 

Silence fell between them for several beats. She let Skywalker gawk at it. He’d become unreadable, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t care. 

“You would have known,” Skywalker surprised her by saying, even if he didn’t look up from the scar. “That you had no workable exit.”

Mara nodded slowly. He hadn’t sensed that. It was too specific. Alarm bells rang in her head. He’d been piecing too much about her. She’d be smart to keep her mouth shut.

But against all her instincts, she lifted her chin again. “Unexpected things happen. That what the mission called for. You know how it is.”

He looked up at her. She couldn’t read his expression nor his sense still. 

“Best medical attention terror and credits could buy.” She closed her eyes. "The best." 

She opened her eyes to Skywalker’s face. He was still staring at her, not the calm Jedi gaze she was used to, something else. A part of her was screaming, _shut up, shut up_. Normally she would.

She was hardly in the domain of normal.

“Ice creature, huh?” Mara leaned forward slightly, half expecting him to lean away from her, but he didn’t. She extended a hand towards the faint scars high on his cheek almost, fingertips not quite touching his skin, half lost in thought.

“They didn’t do a bad job considering they must have been strapped out on the lam like that. On a Core med center they’d do the type of job of it that you’d never know.” A wave of disgust came over her and she let it. “Fix you up nice and pretty just like me.”

“They did that a lot?” he asked quietly.

“As much as they needed to.” She let out a grim laugh. “I’d be the first to ask how long before I was back in.” She came back to herself, withdrew her hand and lowered her undershirt. “I don’t have anything prosthetic, if that’s what you’re wondering. Got mangled up a couple of times, but never lost anything.” She paused. “As far as I knew.”

She'd known so little.

That seemed to shake Skywalker a bit. “You would know.”

Mara tilted her head and lifted her brows. “Oh?”

“Even the best prosthetics need upkeep like any complex device. They would have sent you home with a lengthy maintenance manual and made you take a kit wherever you went.” He hesitated for a beat. “And it feels different for a while.”

"Right." Her eyes lowered to his right hand and he lifted it slightly.

She thought about it for a second and stretched out her own hand. “May I?” He offered it and she turned it over to scrutinize the palm. She lifted her eyes. “Did it come with extras? Stronger grip, faster reflexes?”

Skywalker shook his head.

“Trade offs, I suppose. The capacity for a stronger grip means pressure sensors would have a different calibration. Harder time getting used to modulating grip. Time's a precious resource in war.”

He smiled faintly. “Sure...and lifelike was the idea.”

Mara nodded. “Inconspicuous.” She gently traced the where his index finger met the hand. “The joints must work the same, but metal must give them less propensity for dislocation and fracture...”

Skywalker winced a bit, but didn’t draw his hand away. “Can’t say I’ve tried _that_. It handles a blaster bolt okay.”

“Convenient...and that thing back at the compound was clever.” 

"Compound?"

She traced the pad of her index finger a few inches down his wrist, along the bone on the side. There was no scar to indicate where the graft had been done. She idly wondered by what mechanism it opened. “At Myrkr. Didn’t realize you could rig a power supply like that.”

Skywalker let out a hushed chuckle. “The drawbacks outweigh the benefits. Trust me.”

She raised her eyes. “I’m sure.” She let his hand go and shifted her gaze elsewhere. “It’s too late for me to get one of those anyway.”

His hand slid over hers and her eyes were back on him in surprise. 

“You don’t want that,” he said quietly.

Mara tilted her head and slowly leaned forward until she was bent over him, her back at an angle.

“You,” she whispered without being able to help herself, “have no idea what I want.”

He drew in a sharp breath, and instantly became readable like a sensor display, his sense flaring through the Force. Between that and the flare of his pupils, all the pieces fell into place.

All the strangeness of the time before, of both times they’d playacted with the pirates...it was so simple, so utterly _predictable_ , she could have slapped herself. She must have known at some level, because she herself had fallen into it, like finishing the line to a familiar song. 

Skywalker was still staring up at her, unmoving. His hand was still over hers.

Just because you don’t see something as a fiction doesn’t make it less of a lie. 

No lesson had come harder. 

“What are you thinking?” Mara murmured. 

He licked his lips. “You figured out something.”

“I did,” she conceded, leaning back, not missing how Skywalker’s eyes flickered over her as she did. She was only wearing her undershirt, the top of her flightsuit stripped down around her. “We only have two days. If you think the kid knows about Meyna then maybe you can ask him a couple of questions? He’s really the only lead I’ve got. Anything he knows is something...and if he’s that shaken up, it tends to mean one thing.” 

He withdrew his hand from above hers as he stood, rolling his shoulders back.

"Someone’s looking to confess." Mara caught Skywalker’s eye as she bent to lower the leg of her flightsuit. "Lend him a sympathetic ear and see if he spills about Meyna and their little operation here.” 

She brought a hand to her elbow, going back to resting her chin on her hand. “I also overheard where they’re going after they pick up their slaves at Ryloth. Should have been obvious from the start.”

“Oh?”

“Nar Shaddaa.”

She had Skywalker’s answer in the way his expression instantly darkened, the way he said the next like a curse. 

“Hutt Space.”


	9. Depth Perception

__  
__  
_How can I see the road_  
_From looking at the signs_  
_I’m carrying a load_  
_And steppin’ out of line_ [[x](https://youtu.be/bqFb6VXW86Y)]  


  


  


A ship the size of the _Jackal_ couldn't transport enough slaves to trade with the Hutts, even Luke knew that. The pirates had to be planning to smuggle them some other way. 

“They might be meeting up with someone in the Gaulus sector,” Mara was saying from where she sat in the bunk, still clad in her undershirt. He moved his gaze away. “The firegems are their insurance that they won’t get stabbed in the back.”

“Doesn’t sound like insurance to me when they can blow themselves and whoever else up,” he muttered.

Mara shook her head. “You said they needed to lay low for a while. Means someone must be squeezing them. No one _wants_ to do business with the Hutts. Maybe they have no choice but to deal with some intermediary they don’t know. The firegems sound like some last ditch grope for leverage.”

Luke risked a glance in her direction. “You think they’re this desperate.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, even that motion extremely unhelpful to his aim of looking away. He wished she’d put her flightsuit back on....or didn’t, which was precisely the problem. At least he’d put some distance between them. Things had been uncomfortable there for a minute.

“I’m sure of it.”

Luke shook his head, firmly locking himself to the matter at hand.

Mara gave him one of her ironic smiles. “Out of your element, Skywalker?”

When he chuckled a bit, it came out a bit flat. “Almost makes me wish for a vornskr or two.”

“I’d say the wildlife here has enough teeth.”

“I still rather the kind that doesn’t get space madness and blow you up into smithereens.” He sighed, reminded of where things stood with Mara having nothing to take back to Karrde or the Baron. This was no time to be losing his focus like that. “But right. I should go see if Dunn’s up and see if I can get him to tell me something.”

Mara nodded. “Thanks.” She paused and patted her leg. “For this too. And this.” She brought a hand to her neck. 

He nodded in her direction and walked out. Even with telling himself to shelve it, his mind still ran over that spark in Mara’s sense, that breathless moment when she’d felt that flash of attraction that had seeped beyond bounds. It hadn’t been a recoil from her it’d been a _response_ just before it was gone, snuffed out by her razor-sharp concentration on the job. Just as well, he told himself, reminded also of the scar she'd shown him. This was too poisoned an environment.

Dunn’s cabin was off towards the back of the living quarters. Luke took a steeling breath, marshaled his attention fully to the matter at hand, and knocked gently.

“What is it?” 

That seemed about as much invitation as any so he hit the door panel and let himself in. Dunn was sprawled on his bunk looking up at his datapad, brown hair sticking out from all sides, nose still swollen from when Mahas had broken it earlier.

Dunn turned his face, flicking off his earphones, and his expression was taken aback. “Stonn? What do you want?”

“Nothing.” Luke shrugged, staying by the door. “Got pretty crazy back there. Wanted to see how you were.”

The confusion was replaced by an odd look. “Why?”

Luke thought for a second.

Dunn went back to his datapad. “I don’t swing both ways, Stonn.”

Luke started, caught off guard. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “No, that’s not it.” He rifled through a possible angle that would be understandable. “I don’t...I’m just wondering if I should be...concerned...about Mahas.”

There, Dunn looked up. 

Luke crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. “He’s never liked me and that’s fine, but with Arten, Kruk, and now Jeshi gone. I don’t know...”

Dunn sat up, pushing the datapad aside and flicking off his other earphone. “What are you saying? He swung at _me_.”

“Yeah, but you have Strilath on your side.” Luke frowned. “I came here to do a job. The last thing I need is Mahas to get into the boss’s ear and find a way to cut me out of it.”

Dunn made a face. “He can’t. We’re three men down.”

“But do you know what we’re going to do?”

“Grab a shipful of tailheads.” Luke suppressed a wince and the ensuing sinking feeling. It was different to get this kind of confirmation, completely matter of fact. “We do it every couple of months.”

“And take them where?”

Dunn shrugged. “That changes. Last couple of times we offloaded at Fondor. Deimos’ people would meet us there.”

Luke forced some surprise onto his face. “Deimos? You guys work for Deimos?”

Dunn’s expression darkened slightly. “Yeah. Not anymore, though.”

“Oh? How come?” At Dunn’s narrowed eyes, he added. “Deimos is big leagues, isn’t he? If he’s backing, no wonder you can do business Mid Rim.”

Dunn didn’t respond, his sense suddenly heavy.

“At least that’s what Galen was saying,” Luke continued. “About how the best stuff is Mid Rim.” He slid a wistful note into his words. “Never been.”

“All the resorts are Mid Rim,” Dunn said after a moment. “Vacation spots. All the deep pockets there are relaxed. Sometimes they get careless with their junk.” He looked down at his hands. His voice grew hushed. “Ever seen a Lux-400?”

A prohibitively expensive space yacht. Luke had, as a matter of fact, again through Leia at one of her tiresome gatherings with elite functionaries. He’d had to attend in order to, as she put it, “breed good will” towards the academy and Jedi in general. All they seemed to be were calculated opportunities to display power and wealth. 

“You guys lifted one?” 

Dunn nodded. There was something murky in his sense, dark like remorse. 

Luke whistled low. “Must have made a good profit.”

“Yeah." The younger man went taciturn, his shoulders slumping slightly.

There was something more, but Luke wasn’t sure how to broach it. He stayed quiet, Mara’s voice filtering back to him. 

_Someone’s looking to confess._

Luke felt the seconds tick by and wondered if Dunn would bring himself to continue. That he wanted to was becoming clear in his sense. Luke stayed still, managing his own sense of expectation, making his gaze distant enough not to seem pressing.

“You know what a bundle is, Stonn?” he asked softly.

Luke shook his head. 

“It’s when you grab a landspeeder or a bag and there’s credits or a top of the line blaster or some jewels in them. Bonus.”

Luke was suddenly very sure where this was going, dread winding tight in him.

“The Lux-400 was bundled.”

“Oh?” he made his voice only faintly curious. “Banker or something? Stashed credits?” If only.

Dunn shook his head, expression unseeing. “A girl.”

“A girl?”

“The Lux belonged to her. Some blue blood’s daughter.” He let out a small laugh in a way that made Luke’s stomach clench. “She was smuggling some sparkworks.”

Much more powerful than normal fireworks, sparks were also more dangerous, hence their illegality in the Core and Mid Rim. 

“For some friend’s name day or some such.” Dunn shrugged. “We didn’t know she was there. But she saw us and...” He scoffed. “Rich bitch was stupid enough to go at the captain with a torque spanner.”

Luke had to look down. What he did want was to turn away and leave. He didn’t want to hear this, much less in the flat way that Dunn was telling it, as if it were unavoidable.

“She said her family would pay. But she saw us and after...” There was abject horror in the gaps. Luke shut his eyes willing it away. There was absolutely _no reason_ for such senselessness. He warded off the impulse to lash back. For what? More senselessness? “We couldn’t take her back. Not like that.”

“Anyway,” Dunn continued. “Turns out her daddy is somebody. Somebody big. Big enough to send some mean bounty hunters to track us down to the edge of the Mid Rim. If it weren’t for Deimos we wouldn’t have gotten out. But daddy is also big enough to make Deimos wet his pants. Deimos turned us out. Said we got a death mark on us now.” 

Dunn scoffed. “Deimos gave us a day to get out of his turf. That rich bastard put a death mark on us so large even Deimos wanted to get a cut. It would look bad to his people if he didn’t at least try, he said. You imagine that?”

Luke thought back to what Mara had mentioned -- Karrde’s people tracking Deimos down. According to her, the crime lord had said he hadn’t seen Meyna. Had that been before or after he’d sent his own out for them? Luke shook off the thought. It didn’t make a difference.

“So I don’t know where we’re taking the tailheads. Somewhere Outer Rim, maybe try to talk to what’s left of Black Nebula, but they’ve been a mess since that hit job a while back.” Dunn shook his head. 

“Black Nebula? Don’t you mean Black Sun?”

Dunn furrowed his brow at him. “No Black Sun since the Empire, Stonn. Black Nebula took their place.” He waved a hand. “They’re mostly gone now too. Anyway, Mahas is a fraggin’ animal, but he can’t do shavit to boot you. Without Kruk and them...we’re gonna need everyone we can get...the boss knows.” He looked down at his hands and fell silent.

“Yeah, I was just wondering. Thanks.” Luke made as if to leave.

“You a superstitious sort, Stonn?”

Luke paused and turned back to him. “You could say so, I guess.”

Dunn looked up. “Why?”

Luke cast his eyes around the room. “Why do you ask?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “With everyone dropping like flies.” He wrung his hands in his lap, nervousness palpable. “Could be bad luck I guess...that’s what all of ‘em say.”

Luke thought of the snap and the ID cards. It wasn’t bad luck that much was certain, but he wasn’t about to tell Dunn. He sensed the kid was being truthful, but there was something else. That shadow of regret and self loathing had a faint aura of instability, and things were tense enough among the crew as it was.

“You believe in ghosts and stuff?”

Luke paused again. “Yeah.”

Dunn looked up, a stricken expression on his face. “Like they come for you--”

“No,” Luke interrupted with a shake of his head. “No. Not like that.”

Dunn’s face was still drawn, the cloud of fear not lessening.

“I don’t think anything...gone can hurt you. Or anyone.”

“Right.” Bitterness crept into his tone, making him sound too old for his years. He was just out of his teens, acne still on his face. “Just me going barvy. Cracking like Mahas said.”

“Didn’t say that.”

Dunn scowled. “You thought it. Like no dead rich girl --”

There it broke from Luke like cracking ice, sudden and sharp. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

Dunn stopped and stared at him.

“It shouldn’t have,” he said and it might clash with his cover, but some things mattered more. “They know it. You know it.”

“Yeah, well,” Dunn said, recomposing himself. “Sometimes shit happens. That’s the business.”

Luke kept his tone light. “Doesn’t have to be.”

Dunn snorted. “What else is there? Skinning? Why the kriff are _you_ here otherwise?”

Luke took a chance. “I wouldn’t have stayed after what happened to the girl.”

Dunn laughed, it had the quality of screeching metal. “Because she’s rich? It’s not like with every job one of them doesn’t get out of line. Kruk always said you let one slide, the whole lot’ll go bad. One’s the example.”

Luke ground his teeth as he looked away, reminded why he hated this. He’d phrased that clumsily, but he suspected he’d given up too much of himself to amend it. Clenching his jaw, he groped for clarity; what he _wanted_ was to tell Dunn to act on his conscience, but he wasn't fool enough to think it'd do anything but irreparable damage to his cover to ask the kid to turn himself in. 

So all he said was, “It weighs on you." 

“What does?”

“The girl. What happened to her.”

Dunn fell silent again.

Luke stared at him. “You don’t have to keep doing this.” 

It was true, things could look different for Dunn if he walked away at the depot. Luke would have to bring him back to sec for what he'd done, but it'd cleave the kid from the crew. All the more so if he came clean after.

Dunn made a face. “And do what else, Stonn?”

“Anything else.” As soon as he faced the consequences.

He felt Dunn weigh it over. All too soon, Dunn shook his head. “Easy for you to say. You just got here. _You_ walk off. Not like you got anything. ”

“Do _you_?” Luke pressed. “With no credits? If there’s Mahas causing trouble? Everybody looking at you like you’re crazy?” 

Luke hesitated, and then he had to bring it up regardless of the cover. "If the death mark is that big, you'll never be rid of it, best you can do is turn--"

“There’s still Stri," Dunn shook his head, no longer listening. "He picked me up, you know, I’d still be sleeping on the street if it weren’t for him. I wouldn’t leave him high and dry. Mahas can suck my dick. I ain’t scared of him. Or of a karkin' death mark either.” His face twisted. “Get the kriff out, Stonn. Shouldn’t have told you a kriffin’ thing.”

“Alright.” Luke swallowed the frustration down. He lifted a hand to the door panel. He had to try once more though -- even if it fell on deaf ears. “Just because this is what you’ve done doesn’t mean you have to keep at it.”

“Whatever, Stonn. Like you're not here for the same friggin' thing. Watch one of those sluts spit on your face see what you do.”

With a barely concealed grimace, Luke let himself out.

\--

Mara had just come out of a meditation session when her datapad beeped. She drew it out of her satchel to check.

There was nothing much in Burwat’s datapad. Given the type of operation this was if she wanted to get at any records it would have to be through the captain. She’d tried to break into his cabin a couple of times, but the vents to it were the size of her two hands together. Worse, the captain had outfitted his cabin door with a security system far more sophisticated than the ones in the crew cabins. On one hand, that meant there was certainly _something_ inside, but it wouldn't be easy to get to. Time was running out though, she needed to figure out something fast.

Mara scanned through the dead pirate’s datapad. Her eyes fell on a file with the name usually given to a key file and she opened it up to reveal a spreadsheet with several numbers.

Paydirt.

If her guess was correct, these should be the passcodes to the nav computer. Plug them in and she’d probably get the coordinates to their next destination.

Mara lifted her head. Would there be anyone at the bridge now? With a breath, she gathered her senses and sent them out. 

Over the days, she’d come to recognize the pirates’ Force signatures. Watch was being conducted by the mechanic, Rennek Pter and he was in the engine room towards the aft of the ship, probably tinkering with something now that they were down an engineer. 

Mara didn’t need to head to the bridge. She could just delete the file from the datapad. The coordinates of the supply depot really had no bearing on her current objective. In fact, keeping them was a hazard to it. Her hand moved over the datapad screen and stopped. She’d still have to account for the file somehow. 

She’d have to give that a bit more thought.

Mara’s hand froze. But there _was_ a way that knowing where they were headed to could simplify her job. It might be worth the hassle in the long run. She grabbed her satchel and slid the datapad inside. 

She cracked her neck and stood, mindlessly going through stretches. With Skywalker distracted with the kid, there would be no better time. She felt a twinge, heaviness lurking. It shouldn’t be this easy. Mara took a breath and recentered herself.

She grabbed her satchel and went over to the desk.

\--

Mara was gone when Luke returned to his cabin.

He was surprised, and he found, a little disappointed. He supposed he shouldn’t have been. Two days of work together hardly meant that Mara would wait around for him before she went back to her own search. Obviously, she’d meant to maximize the time she had left -- even if the whole reason he’d gone to talk to Dunn was for her sake.

It still stung a bit. 

Luke reached out to track where she was. Nearby he got, but not much more. She was clearly occupied with something. Reluctantly, he drew away.

To his surprised she reached back. She was trying to break into the captain’s quarters, he finally pieced up. 

The captain though, wasn’t too far. It didn’t seem like the best idea. 

Mara had already gone back to her...wrangling with the security system it seemed. 

Too risky, he thought. Between both of them they could have come up with a distraction.

Annoyance blared at him. Luke pulled himself away. She’d been getting his concern, some measure of it, at least. He supposed with some chagrin that it was interfering with whatever she was doing.

Luke left her to whatever she was up to. He may as well use the time to reboot. He could go for longer without sleep, but given the uncertain condition of the ship, he didn’t want to push it. He was even more sure of it after speaking to Dunn.

Luke went through his evening routine and shot down every impulse he got to check on Mara. They were on smoother waters here finally, even with the unsatisfying end to her job. If she wanted to do things on her own he’d best leave her to it. He still felt uneasy about leaving her with nothing, even his conversation with Dunn had ended up being unhelpful for her purposes. Her ultimate goal was _proof_ , after all.

It couldn’t be helped, Luke told himself. With everything, it’d be foolish to drag out detaining pirates. From what Dunn had told him he didn’t get the inkling there was any hard evidence to find anyway. Would the Baron take a confession? Once arrested and brought back to Coruscant, Dunn, or any of them might talk. Even if they didn't there was enough to hold them responsible. Meyna and her family would have justice in any case, so would their other victims. 

For now, he and Mara needed figure out how to hold the _Jackal_ at whatever depot they were stopping at until NRI arrived. He’d need the coordinates to send to them as soon as possible though...

Luke let the thoughts go as he meditated. Mara was still not back when he came out of the session, and resigned, he settled in his bunk to sleep.

He couldn’t help but reach out to check on her. She was somewhere near the galley now, probably listening in. Maybe she’d catch something like she’d caught that the pirates' end point was Nar Shaddaa. He withdrew quickly and found himself drifting off.

\--

Mara shut the glow rod and eased herself slowly down the vent, her boots making barely a whisper as they came down on the desk. Skywalker might sleep like the dead, but she’d long been conditioned out of telegraphing her entrances or exits if she could help it.

She still had several hours before the day cycle began, she calculated as she went to the ‘fresher and washed her face. She could probably get a meditation session in for them. Maybe some simple Force exercises. Once Skywalker was occupied elsewhere for the day she could try for sleep.

Mara closed her eyes, reminded she barely slept in the morning thanks to that blasted maintenance droid. She could use the rest.

She rubbed at her face. Even the mirror showed how tired she looked. Unthinkable she’d gotten _this_ soft. 

At the very least she might have stayed out and done some more searching around, but it didn’t make sense to tire herself out excessively for nothing. It only increased the likelihood of careless mistakes. Besides, she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. 

Mara walked out too the spot in the space between the bed and desk, her back against the wall.

“Did you find anything?”

She started at the sound of Skywalker’s voice.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Didn’t know you were awake.”

“I wasn’t.”

She swallowed. “Sorry to wake you then.”

“You didn’t, I--” He broke off and she heard him shift. 

She couldn’t help it, she could hear her heartbeat at her ears. Empty it out, she told herself. Empty it out. Empty it all out.

“What is it?”

Mara bit down on a curse. It was her own fault for being caught off guard. She heard him shift some more. She thought he might be sitting up. 

“If it’s the NRI thing--”

“It’s not that.” She put her hands on her knees, slipping into a crosslegged position. “I’m not happy about it, but it’s not that.”

“The dream thing.”

Mara made herself nod, even though he wouldn’t be able to see her. “It’s fine. There was nothing else you could have done. And it’s not a big deal anyway.”

Skywalker sounded confused. “But it is. You’re on edge because of it.”

“It’ll go away.”

“I’m sorry.”

Something wound up inside her. “You don’t have to apologize. It was a good idea. I would have done the same.” But then, she felt centered saying that, as if she’d found her balance. “You should go back to sleep.”

“The coordinates?”

“I went to the bridge and input the passcodes I found into the nav comp. They weren’t the right ones, and their sec program scrambled the datapad. It’s useless now.” She made a disgusted noise. “If there was anything else on that datapad it’s gone. Maybe you can take a look tomorrow.”

Mara heard him sigh. “I can try, but slicing’s not my thing.”

“Of all the moments not to have Ghent around.”

“So the file is scrambled, no coordinates?”

“No coordinates.”

Skywalker let out a frustrated groan. “I guess we have no choice but to make it so the _Jackal_ is stuck at the depot until NRI gets in. If I find out late, chances are it’ll take them a while.”

“How far are they?”

“I’m not sure. When I checked before we went into hyperspace they’d just gotten to Lothal.”

“Well, if it’s sabotage you want,” she muttered. “I have a couple of ideas.”

“Let’s have ‘em, I guess.”

Her eyes widened. “What, now?”

With a click, the light turned on. She blinked at the sudden illumination.

“You weren’t going to sleep anyway.” Skywalker looked at her sitting position pointedly.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t you?” She squinted at him. He was sitting on the bunk and turned in her direction, scooting forward, hair sleep tousled, but eyes impossibly alert.

He shrugged. “I got enough sleep.”

Mara raised her eyebrows. “In that case, I suppose you wouldn’t mind filling me in on your heart to heart with little Dunneth.”

He blinked at her tone and Mara almost cursed. She needed sleep.

“You were right.”

She cocked her head. “He wanted to confess?”

Skywalker nodded. 

“Did he do it?”

He hesitated. “He didn’t go into details. It was a hijacking gone wrong, Meyna was on the ship they tried to steal, she fought back...Dunn didn’t mention any more than that.”

“So nothing useful.”

“Nothing to suggest there’s evidence to take back to Karrde and the Baron, no. I don’t think there is any...” A pained expression came over his face. “Left.”

“I suspected as much,” she ground out and inhaled slowly. Empty.

“For whatever it’s worth...I think NR sec should be able to get a confession from him -- once the arrests get made. The Baron will have that.”

She smiled humorlessly. “I suppose they _could_ make a rat out of him.”

Skywalker’s eyes grew hazy. “He’s young.”

She craned her head to look at him. “So this is all a youthful mistake?" she said evenly. "Just fell in with the wrong people? Raped and killed a few slaves, except he did that to a fine upstanding member of society and we can’t have that. But maybe if he gives sec all the names of his friends, then we can forget all of that happened.”

Skywalker’s tone turned guarded as his gaze focused on her. “He’ll still be held responsible.”

She should really be quiet, but Mara found herself taking a deep breath continuing in that same measured tone. “The reason NRI was looking for someone to do recon was because they’re carrying high grade weapons. Right? That’s why you’re here -- for the firegems, the kind of weapons that could possibly be sold to whatever last gasp is left of the Empire. You can't be naive enough to think NRI or the New Republic gives a kriff about slaving in the Outer Rim.”

“It’s still against New Republic law and they’ll have to answer for it. Just like the firegems.”

“There’s no ‘just like’ Skywalker. The firegems are an issue of galactic stability. A dead girl.” Mara shrugged. “Slaves? That’s not even a blip on the radar.”

He looked at her in confusion. “That’s not -- why are you saying this?”

She went on calmly, “So what if he’s young or fell in with the wrong people? At the end of the day, he’s a rapist, a slaver, a _murderer_ , and if you think he’s seriously going to be tried for these things, you’re wrong. If he points fingers hard enough all he’ll get is a slap on the wrist and be tried like a mid-tier weapons smuggler, regardless of the Baron's influence.” She looked at Skywalker square in the face. “But that’s not who he is.”

Skywalker met her gaze. He was quiet for a few seconds. “Recognizing that beings can be more than their past wrongs doesn’t negate them. It also doesn't mean they can't change.”

Mara bit her lip and turned her head. That was enough. “Yeah.” She forced herself back. “And what do I know? I don’t know how the New Republic will work out legality in this. Jurisdiction's probably a mess. It’ll probably be better than what the Empire did. It already has a leg up just going by their treatment of non-humans.” 

She looked down and shut her eyes, desperately hoping Skywalker wouldn’t say a word. 

Skywalker slid forward and off the bunk. She got the impression he wanted to sit next to her but the space was not wide enough for it, so he took the spot on the floor in front of her, his back against the bunk.

“I just need rest.” Mara hated the heavy way her voice sounded. She hated herself for what she was about to say. “But I’m...I don’t want go to sleep.” She looked up and away past Skywalker, towards the ‘fresher.

“Because of me.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“My memories...” Mara let her voice fade. “There’s nothing good in them.” She closed her eyes. “I hate the ones that _seem_ to be good the most.” She opened them again, lowering them to her hands, rubbing idly at her thumbnail. “It’s worse knowing that someone else can see.”

Skywalker’s hand slid atop of hers. It jarred her, but she forced herself to stay still.

“I know you wouldn’t...intrude.” She finished in a whisper, “It’s not rational.”

\--

Luke squeezed her hand at the last. Despair was pouring off her, clinging to her sense and he thought, _this_ was why it was toxic here. Her past was nothing like this.

She inhaled sharply and looked up, he felt her trap all the feelings and push them within her shields. “I’m sorry. You don’t need this.” 

He squeezed her hand again. “No, it’s all right.”

Mara shook her head. “You've heard enough nastiness for today.” 

“This isn’t like that at all,” he replied quickly. “At all. It's not, Mara--”

"Don't."

He quieted. At least she hadn't pulled away.

“What a horrible job this has been for you,” she mused after a moment.

Luke tilted his head. “I’ve...had better, sure. This undercover thing...”

“Doesn’t jibe with that farmboy earnestness of yours.” She raised her head and there was a shadow of a smile in her face.

He smiled back, happy to see it. It felt lighter. “It doesn’t. Like that hair doesn’t go with you.” 

She made a dismissive noise. “Don’t make me blush, Skywalker,” she said flatly.

“It looks fine--”

“A way with words, I see.”

“No! I just mean--”

“That you’re a creature of habit and routine at base, apparently.”

He frowned at her. “Isn’t everyone?”

She smiled one of her thin smiles. “ _I’m_ not.”

He made a face at her. “Lie. I bet you eat your ration bar every day at the same time. Probably color code your underwear.”

She covered up her surprise but not before he saw it and laughed.

“You do?” he chuckled. “Of course you do.”

“It’s efficient.” Mara was back to her prim persona. “Although I guess someone who cycles between three tunic and pants sets wouldn’t understand.”

“Hey, I --”

“I _thought_ it was times of crisis, but no that really is your style, using the term very, very loosely, of course.”

“That’s not --”

“Say what you will about my hair. Yours,” Mara leaned forward and wrinkled her nose, “is.” She drew her hand from under his, grabbed a strand of it and tugged lightly for emphasis. “Too long.”

“Ow.” Luke pouted at her. “You don’t like it?”

He just meant it as a tease, but her expression became carefully blank as she pushed his hair back a bit, her fingertips brushing past his ear. That felt...coy and her sense was...not blank at all. It’d been like it’d been when he was checking on her bandage, dripping with awareness. He’d never thought...

Her hand dropped.

He was _not_ imagining the charged atmosphere between them or this shift in her sense. 

He just wasn’t sure what to do with it here.

“I wish I could have found something more for you,” Luke found himself saying. “I thought if this went well for both of us, I could earn myself a comm from you when we’re back.”

“A comm from me,” Mara repeated. He felt sudden wariness from her.

 _For dinner._ Luke almost winced at how it could sound to say that now. Not with the complicated history between them. Not with this nightmare job in the way. 

Better to keep things simple until they were in safe territory again.

“I thought that we could continue training like we talked about.”

The words were no longer out of his mouth that he sensed Mara withdraw. Luke wished the words back even though he wasn’t sure why she’d pull away. They were training now, weren’t they? Why wouldn’t she want to continue? She was making so much progress in just this short time. 

Mara was leaning back and closing her eyes, just beginning a breathing cycle, completely blank to him save as a bright life presence. She’d taken surprisingly well to meditation these days.

Maybe that was it. Mara felt like he did, that much he knew now, but she must feel, too, the weight of history between them, and certainly more than he did, the weight of her past. Training must have only been an unwelcome reminder right now. He shouldn’t have said that. 

And he was reminded belatedly they meant to discuss ways to sabotage the ship. It’d have to be when she came out of the session then.

Luke stared at her, posture squared, breathing even, raven hair a contrast with the pale of her skin, so black parts of it shaded blue under the lights. Even now, he didn’t know what else he could have said. 

He just wanted them off this blasted ship.


	10. Invariance

__  
__  
_How bad to get on her bad side_  
_I'm in, I'm in the corner_  
_Could be, could be she wants attention_  
_She pushed, she pulled me towards her_ [[x](https://youtu.be/a9B_BQeNq_I)]  


  


  


They were just a few hours from the Tallese system. That was where the Drenos depot was, at a cluster of asteroids rimward from the system’s solitary sun. Mara hadn’t been there before, but Karrde’s files contained enough information that she was reasonably confident about what to expect. She’d spent the better part of the early morning hours reading up on it from a spot at a vent shaft near the first mate’s cabin. 

She’d returned just as Skywalker was showering. It’d been two days since he’d talked to the kid, Dunneth Cridmeen, and gotten verbal confirmation of Meyna’s murder. Mara had spent the evenings wrangling the elaborate locking mechanisms on the captain’s quarters to no avail. Tonight she’d barely schooled herself from blaring triumph when she finally made her way inside. She’d been avoiding Skywalker for that reason, that and because of the new _whatever that was_ between them.

Mara sat on the desk and went for her datapad as she waited for Luke to come out.

They’d gone over possible forms of sabotage the night after his talk with Cridmeen, just before she’d left for the captain’s quarters and settled on disabling the hyperdrive. That would be enough to leave _The Jackal_ , its crew, and them stranded, but otherwise safe within the system while NR sec could arrive.

Afterwards, Mara had climbed back on the desk, heading to the vent, already with an eye towards the evening’s activities, but Skywalker had called her name. Out of nothing, she felt the atmosphere tense between them. He'd been about to broach what happened the night before, maybe go further, she intuited. Mara paused, not covering up an impulse to recoil.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Skywalker take a half step back. Despite near a week of being in his presence, feeling it -- him -- just past the horizon of her awareness, of sleeping in his bunk, the scent of him on the sheets around her like a strange secondhand intimacy, she was still not sufficiently proficient to read his brief outpouring of emotion. She didn’t even want to try.

Because Luke Skywalker being attracted to her jetted out of irony right into cosmic joke fast enough to make anyone’s head spin. 

More disquieting yet, was her own pull towards him. Disquieting because it wasn’t, not really. Because if she thought of it long and hard enough, it made perfect, gouging sense.

So she didn’t.

Or rather, she pushed it onto the dejarik board where everything belonged for the duration of the job. This was another element to control for, to accommodate as smoothly as possible lest it stand in her way. She'd figure it out.

And so, Mara had simply climbed up and into the vent. 

That incident, small as it was, had been sufficient to set the stage. She’d come back from her attempts to break into the captain and first mates’ cabins into the day cycle. Skywalker had been meditating and she’d gotten herself to the ‘fresher. He was gone by the time she came out and settled in for sleep. Thinking rationally, it made sense for her to put space between them as an acknowledgement of this new, heavier atmosphere. Skywalker must have taken it as a cue, offering some distance of his own. He wanted to train her after all, she’d expect nothing less. 

The pattern continued like it had in the previous days. She’d woken up well past what would be midday, kept to practice with the difference that she didn’t ask for the training bond. Skywalker didn’t offer either, his sense was vague again -- not that she dared anything but the lightest reach, folding it into an accounting of everyone in the ship. She could do without his tips for a bit while she settled into this state of affairs. 

Mara made sure to be gone by the time he returned. That night after, she’d wrestled with the security at the captain’s quarters while he was out at the bridge -- fruitlessly -- she took a crawl towards the ship’s engine room to get a sense of what class of hyperdrive motivator she’d be fixing later. She was pretty sure it’d be a class 1 like the _Karrde_ , but these were not things she liked leaving to chance; it’d be helpful to know the specific model so she could study its specs again. She dug around there, finding a good hiding spot at an access hatch between the machinery when the pirate on watch did his rounds. 

Mara continued her reconnaissance for the rest of the night. The hyperdrive class was slightly lower than one -- faster than the _Karrde’s_ , but the deflector shield generators were hardly as robust. She very much doubted _The Jackal_ had the same plating on the outside the _Karrde_ did, too. This was a ship to pop out of hyperspace, pummel its victims and jump back into hyperspace at the first sign of trouble. Perfectly fitting with a pirate ship’s MO.

She returned shortly before the day cycle began, but she’d no more approached the vent at Skywalker's cabin that she realized he was awake, his sense hazy enough to indicate tight shielding. A spark of irritation lit, she'd lost another night trying to gain entry to the captain’s cabin, and didn’t need any eyes on her. As she lowered herself down to the desk, she’d half expected Skywalker to sit up but he was on his bunk lying on his side facing away, so at least she wasn’t about to get grilled. She stepped into the ‘fresher to get the soot and dust off her and was in a better mood by the time she came out. He’d changed positions, now flat on his stomach, but his head was turned away. She still felt him awake.

The whole thing was just a bit absurd. She took up the spot she used for meditation, falling into the posture for it.

“Hyperdrive is a class .8, something like it. It shouldn’t be that hard to disable. The model is still Avatar.” She paused. “Couldn’t get into the captain’s cabin.” 

Skywalker made a low acknowledging noise, she closed her eyes and and centered herself, breathing from her diaphragm, counting the inhales and exhales, emptying herself out -- all the frustration and the anxiety, and the part of herself that stared on, aghast, at what it meant to do this. She couldn’t deal with _that_ not now, she was _busy_ now --

Back to her counting.

\--

Conversation in the galley and lounge was measured now, a kind of eeriness to it. The fact that Arten, Kruk, and Jeshi were gone in such a short time impossible to ignore. Despite all his talk a couple of nights ago, Dunn avoided the galley, coming in just to eat and leaving soon after. Dreiz tried to approach him once or twice, but the younger man didn’t seem receptive. Strilath, too, had gone taciturn and withdrawn, regardless of his defense in front of the captain, it was obvious to Luke he was harboring some heavy feeling over Jeshi’s death.

It felt genuine in his sense, so Luke was reasonably certain it wasn’t Strilath behind the deaths and the stealing. He felt something similar with Dunn, so that left Mahas, Dreiz, Galen, Enif, and Rennek, the captain, and Bareth.

The captain and Bareth could hardly be stealing and picking off from their own crew, Luke thought as he took a few bites of his food. That sort of thing would be hazardous and stupid. They couldn’t manage a ship this size on their own. Luke had felt the captain’s rage after finding out about Jeshi, and Bareth hadn’t been too far behind. 

Luke’s thoughts turned in the direction of the crew as Galen walked into the galley, calling a greeting. Rennek, Enif, and Dreiz, called theirs back and went back to carrying out a back and forth on something inconsequential. 

The motivations of the remaining pirates seemed no easier to figure out. Luke had spent time with them, sure, but he didn’t know enough to figure out why anyone would want to murder their own crewmates. Larger cuts seemed like the easiest conclusion to jump to, but given the type of operation they were running, it seemed incredibly short sighted, even for them.

He was brought back to the moment when Galen took the seat opposite his on the table. “Look worried, Stonn.”

Luke fiddled with his utensil. “We’re running out of power couplers and everyone’s been coy about when exactly we’re going to get to the depot.”

“Figure if it was a big deal, they’d let you know.” Galen smiled. “Not like the boss and them would risk their skins.”

Luke turned his head and took another bite. “Unless they’re sloppy.”

Galen’s smile turned forced. “That nervous?’

Luke shrugged. After a moment he dared, “I’m used to working alone, I dunno.” He glanced around him. “A lot of unknowns in a crew.”

Galen stayed silent for a long time, enough that Luke looked up at him again. There was more than a bit of trepidation in his sense, not of him, not exactly, he didn’t think. As if he wanted to broach something...Luke went back to his food, waiting.

“You think it was an accident?” Galen had lowered his voice. "Jeshi."

Luke’s head snapped up. He nodded quickly, suppressing the impulse to look around, only Dreiz, Enif, and Rennek were there. He went for his water.

“Really?”

Luke leaned forward slightly. “No reason to think otherwise.”

Galen laughed softly and went for a bite of his food. “You really don’t work with others much, do you?” He didn’t wait for Luke to respond. “First thing you learn going crew to crew is that that whole saying ‘honor among thieves’?”

Luke nodded.

“It’s bantha shit.”

Luke looked at him warily. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing maybe.” He took a few bites, chewing with a distant look before responding. “This crew has a death mark right?”

Luke sighed. “ _Everyone_ has a death mark, Galen, what’s your point?”

He looked at him with undisguised humor. “What, you do?”

Luke rolled his eyes and went back to his own food. “All it means is that you pissed someone off badly enough they want you dead, in this line of business that doesn’t mean much, right?”

Galen was amused as he ate. “What’d you do?” he said over a mouthful.

He waved a hand. “Some shavit with Imperials ages ago. But so they--”

Galen’s eyes widened. “You kriffed with Imperials--”

“ _Anyway_ , so they have a death mark and what?”

Galen thought back to his previous line of reasoning. “Just that if it’s large enough to bump ‘em from Mid Rim, how farfetched is it that it’s large enough to turn someone’s head? Someone...who’s here already, maybe.” 

Luke considered it, his stomach knotting. He thought back to Mara. _I suppose they could make a rat out of him_. Or an infiltrator.

Could one of the crew have taken up the death mark that had them so concerned? Luke had never paid much attention to the Coruscanti elite. Obviously the Baron had had enough resources to contract the galaxy's best information broker -- that’s why Mara was here digging around for proof for him, but perhaps sometime after the Baron secured Karrde’s services, one of the pirates had cut a deal with him. 

His crewmates’ lives for his...and cold hard credits. 

“Yeah,” Galen said softly. “If that's true they’re gonna need a fall guy and we’re the newcomers, so I don’t see this going anywhere good.”

Luke took another bite of his food. “You really think someone in this crew took up the mark?”

“Three of us gone, Stonn.”

“Yeah, but Kruk--”

“Like you can’t take a wander downplanet at the nearest black market and grab an untraceable brew?”

Luke squinted at him.

Galen looked at him with mild exasperation. “Poison, Stonn. With the right amount of credits you can buy the kind of thing that’ll make a man _look_ like he croaked in his sleep.”

“It wasn’t like that for Kruk,” he pointed out. “He’d been sick for days. We all heard him coughing.”

“So? Bet you can find stuff like that too.”

Luke revised his line of thinking. “This crew? Something that underhanded?” But the words had scarcely left his mouth when he started considering it. With the firegems around, then it made sense to keep his moves secret, the situation could get highly volatile otherwise, so whichever pirate it was, he probably knew about the gems. 

“None of us so have so much as sneezed.”

Luke frowned. “Yeah, but why not just poison everyone right off the bat if that’s the angle?”

Galen shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe _the client_ wanted it that way, whoever the kriff he is.”

Luke was reminded Galen didn’t know about the Baron. He pushed his tray away, done with his meal as he went through Galen's theory in his head. There _was_ something to it. The Baron's credits did stretch that far. It wasn’t just the loss of a daughter possibly, it was the crossing of a line. The pirates’ sordid business was never to touch the Core’s upper echelons. 

The Baron’s death mark wasn't a vendetta. It was a statement, and then Dunn’s words echoed back to him.

_One’s the example._

It made him stiffen. Did _no one_ believe in law?

Bringing himself back, Luke stretched his sense to Galen, but got only the usual wariness from him. If Galen were a savvy operative, he should have been able to read some deceit.

“I guess also because of the explosives.”

“What explosives?” Galen cocked his head as he drank from his water. “We offloaded all of them at Lothal.”

Luke blinked. Galen hadn’t known about the gems. He kept his voice casual, “We did? I guess I forgot with all this.” He passed a hand through his hair.

Then there were Mahas, Enif, Dreiz, and Rennek. Of the three he knew Rennek the least, but nothing flagged in his sense. Certainly, Mahas was a nasty piece of work, but it would be something entirely different for him to take on his crewmates. He didn’t come off particularly deceitful either. Enif--

“What are you girls gossiping about?” Mahas nasal voice rang out.

“None of your kriffin’ business,” Galen snapped, looking up at him with a scowl.

“The kriff’s the matter with you Galen?” 

“Not in the mood for your shavit.”

Luke took it as his cue to leave. Ever since he’d gotten between Mahas and Dunn, he could see Mahas wanting some sort of repeat to cure his bruised pride, or maybe just entertain himself for all Luke knew. Whatever Mahas wanted though, Luke wanted no part of it. 

Mahas turned his attention to Luke. “Leaving so soon?”

“Just watch your back, Stonn,” Galen muttered under his breath.

Luke gave him a nod as he rounded the table to get rid of his tray. Of course, Mahas stepped forward to get right in his way.

He sighed and shook his head. It was precisely these displays which made him doubt Mahas as the culprit. No one this theatrical had the cunning to be at the bottom of the three deaths -- murders, he reminded himself.

“What is it tonight, Mahas?” Luke asked, utterly bored with the posturing. “You don’t like me? I’m new? I don’t know how your ship works? I’m carrying the tray the wrong way?”

Luke heard Dreiz snort from the other end of the room.

Mahas’ eyes narrowed at him. “Feeling smart, huh?”

He scoffed at him. “Whatever snide thing you’re going to say, just go ahead and say it so I can get some rest.”

“You’re looking for trouble.”

Luke rubbed his forehead. “Okay.” It was a half side step, more of a feint, and he’d easily evaded Mahas all together and smoothly disposed of his tray.

Behind him, he felt Mahas’ fury pulse through the Force acquiring a vaguely threatening edge, no less because Dreiz’s snort had turned into full fledged laughter. But by then Luke had hit the door panel and was out of the galley. As he went to his cabin, he thought instead of what Galen had mentioned. 

Mara had never addressed that possibility of one of the crew taking up the Baron’s death mark. Would she find it persuasive? Even so, between Dreiz, Rennek, and Enif, Luke couldn’t see who could be devious enough to pull off something like that. Thinking of Mara though had the side effect of reminding him how charged things had been between them since that night he’d talked to Dunn, since he’d made the mistake of mentioning training when they were back. 

As it was the case these past days, Mara was gone. He scanned a bit, finding her somewhere along the middle of the ship. Engine room again, possibly.

Luke fought off a wave of disappointment as he went for his datapad to go over the task list for the morning. Things had been progressing so smoothly until that point. With his help she’d been refining her skills further, they’d been...friendly. All right, it’d felt slightly more than friendly, but that had just ended up adding an extra layer of complication to everything. Ever since then she’d barely said a word about anything unrelated to her activities on the ship, all the camaraderie that had built up during the days prior just...gone. It smarted, but not more than the suspicion that this was Mara reconsidering the whole idea of training -- a much more worrisome thought.

Mara was Force talented, hardworking and disciplined. For so long he’d been afraid he wouldn’t know where to begin training someone. Mara’s base knowledge and background had made that worry irrelevant. 

Luke put the datapad down. In many ways she was the ideal person to train.

He’d be a fool to risk that for...for what exactly? A couple of coy smiles and some easy exchanges didn’t mean much at the end of the day. Anything personal and _real_ from her side, and he felt as welcome as a rancor at an ewok party. No, his instincts were right, better to get back to Coruscant and just keep things safe, but that felt precarious now too.

Luke put the datapad away to continue getting ready for bed. He couldn’t take for granted her agreement to train. Not now, he thought as he went through his evening routine. There was something worrisome about her reaction. Had he made her feel uncomfortable? She hadn’t shown any unease until he mentioned training, what the connection was, he didn’t know. He’d thought it been her past, but it could have easily be the reminder of her aborted job here. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Even now, days later, he couldn’t think of what he could have said instead, other than maybe not reminded her that she’d be going to Karrde empty handed. 

Would it be back to what it had been before they’d met up here? Contacting her with no response? He wasn’t deluding himself thinking this here more than a trial run. For a bit he’d dared to think that she’d be interested in continuing, but now...

Not a whole lot seemed certain right now.

\--

Sometime after she’d woken up, it came to Mara that she was wasting too much time tangling with the captain’s security. She was going to have to get into his cabin the hard way, which meant less of a margin of error. From the past two days she gotten a clear idea, more or less of the captain and Selmur, his first mate’s, pattern. There was a small cooking and dining area between their cabins where they took their meals. They both left for the bridge after and spent the first few hours of the night there before doing a final inspection of the overall functioning of the ship before retreating to their cabins for the evening. 

It was risky breaking in while they were close, but if she found that detonator for the firegems, it’d be more than worth it. If her guess was right, she could slip into the captain’s quarters while he was having dinner. She was sure he didn't lock it, which meant she wouldn't have to continue fighting with his security system. 

Sending her senses out towards the dining area, the captain and his first mate were there, she set to work on the door panel bring into play the magnetic key she’d cobbled the evening before to no avail. With a good portion of the security disengaged, the door opened relatively easily and she was in. 

The captain’s cabin was large, a good three times larger than Skywalker’s. There was no point in doing any digging around now, not when the captain was likely to come back so soon; it was just a matter of hiding out until he did leave for the bridge. 

Mara slid herself under the captain’s bunk, a tight fit, but there’d be no reason for him to look there...and if he did...she did pack her blaster and suppressor. It’d put a crimp in her plans, complicate them immeasurably, but the risks of exposing herself right now made this a far more dangerous situation than it’d first been. She wasn’t going to let herself be captured again.

She was reasonably certain things would go her way, but gently clipped her suppressor to the blaster muzzle all the same.

Her senses had picked up that the captain was back. Mara stayed still and tracked his footsteps as he moved around his room, her blaster at the ready, wishing she could see what he was up to. He radiated worry, she guessed, for what the lost men would mean to his operation. A few endless minutes later, she heard his footsteps depart and the hiss of the door with the clicks of the security mechanism. She stayed unmoving for a few minutes after, reaching out for confirmation that the room was indeed vacant.

Once she was certain, she slid herself out and tried to retrace the captain’s footsteps, he’d gone to his terminal and checked something possibly. His footsteps had taken him to a storage unit next, she looked through it finding clothing. Nothing hidden. Mara turned to her own methodical search of the room. The captain had a safe at the corner of a storage unit, and she sat with the satchel, taking out some tools to crack it’s mechanism. It wasn’t as complicated as the one in the door to cabin and she’d managed to open it to find a vibroblade inside, and some datachips. No detonator.

She sighed and shoved the datachips into her bag. She turned to the vibroblade, considering its weight and examining it more closely. Not a vibroblade at all. Just a blade, but an antique by the looks of it, with a jewel encrusted hilt. No doubt real and incredibly valuable, if it was kept in a safe. This would do nicely. She put it into her bag as well.

Mara continued her search for the rest of the time, until she caught that the captain was on his way back. She went back into her hiding place under his bunk. 

“We might have to hire some Zygerrians,” she overheard the captain say gruffly near the door. “Once we get to Drenos.”

Selmur made a dismayed sound. “Catfaces? You know how the crew feels about aliens.”

“I don’t like it any better, but for the load we’ll be carrying...we have to adjust. Those blockheads have no choice. They’ll have to deal.” 

“I hear ya, boss, but I don’t know if that’s pushin’ ‘em too far. Enif and Rennek are up to their eyeballs in fixes, everything from that loadlifter to the ‘lift breakdown. Then Stri’s not doing too hot. Mahas keeps crowing at me to get the new blood out and Dunn...” he broke off.

Mara startled. Enif Clar and...Rennek..., she dug around her memory, Rennek Pter, their tech. Stri must be Strilath Parsto and Mahas Crofin. Which one was the new blood? Skywalker? 

“You talk to him?”

“Not yet. Seeing if he’ll snap out of it. Stri kept him in line, but Stri’s head’s not in the game anymore.”

The captain cursed. “We’re down three men. And if Strilath--”

Selmur’s tone got firmer. “Stri’ll be back. It’s Dunn still broken up that princess had to go.”

“Well, talk to him. This shavit’s real serious here. He keeps sulking and I’ll leave him behind at Drenos. I don’t give a kriff what Strilath thinks. I’m not risking our necks for some kid mooning over some rich bitch. He knows what’s at stake here.”

Selmur sighed. “Will do. ‘Night.”

“Yeah,” the captain grumbled. “Long day tomorrow.”

Mara felt Selmur depart. The captain walked over to the terminal again. Mara waited, feeling the minutes thud by. Skywalker had mentioned an increase in tensions between the crew just a few nights ago. Mahas...was it? Had to be -- tall and smart mouthed, the kid, Dunn, and who had been the third name? Mara tried to think back. Ponytail...Galen...Sauminn. If Karrde’s contacts were right he’d been picked up shortly before the crew had stopped at Manaan for the previous two slave drops.

What she was sure of was that the level of tension was not about to go down any time soon -- and the detonator was still not accounted for. The level of risk was considerable and only growing. It brought another thought to mind too, one she’d kept at the back of her mind for days, pushed to aside to be dealt with later. She needed to get rid of Skywalker.

The thought caught at her throat like garrote wire, the sheer inevitability of it staggering. But this was not the time to dwell on that either. It was a puzzle, a riddle to solve; she’d need to sit down and think through it once she got out of here. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Afterwards, she’d find out what was on those datachips.

The captain had stood up and was padding over to his ‘fresher. That was her chance, Mara stealthily scooted out from under the bunk, and senses trained on the outside of the cabin to make sure no one was there, made her way out and back into the nearest usable vent. 

\--

Luke had felt her arrive just as he was showering, a thrum of anxiety in her sense. He sensed she needed to talk to him about something.

He hoped that anxiety wasn't about them. He'd been giving her as much distance as he could. All the same, it seemed to have been steadily increasing. Maybe she'd found something? He dressed quickly and went to see what it was.

“Did you finally break through the captain’s security system?”

She shook her head with a small forced smile. She was sitting cross-legged on top of the desk, fiddling with her datapad. “I couldn’t, actually. I’d need more time and better tools.”

“Oh.” He looked at her, a bit confused. Maybe that was it, but somehow he doubted it. “Then?”

“Bareth Selmur’s cabin is also inaccessible via vent.” She reached into her satchel, putting her datapad away, but pulled out some datachips. “But _his_ security is nowhere near as tight.” She offered them to him. “Detailed schedules, contracts, correspondence. They’re quite comprehensive once you decrypt them.”

Luke stared at her.

Mara extended her hand. “Obviously NR sec is going to have enough to prosecute with the firegems, but there are _names_ here, all kinds. Not just of slave rings they’ve done business with, not just crime lords who get a cut, but even corrupt officials. If the NR wants to keep drawing a hard line on where it’s different from the Empire then this seems as good an opportunity as any. Go on, take this back to your people. Put it to good use. We’re off this ship in less than twelve hours anyway.”

Luke nodded wordlessly. His fingertips slid across her palm as he took the datachips from her and he should be overjoyed at this. He was, in a way. This _would_ be put to good use, but somehow all he found himself thinking of was again keying in her comm and getting her away message. Endlessly.

It was her choice and she knew that his offer stood for when she wanted...nothing would be gained by pushing. He’d been as persuasive as he could be.

It hadn't been enough, he realized.

Confusion washed over her face. “I thought you’d be happier.”

“Oh, this...this is huge. I’m sure it’ll...” Luke found himself at a loss. He blurted out the rest without thinking it through, “It feels like goodbye.” 

The wave of feeling that seeped out from her confirmed it. 

It wasn’t too different from getting the wind knocked out of him. “I thought...” Luke started. “Things were going so well.”

“They were.” She looked away, sense suddenly unreadable. 

“And you have so much talent and...drive,” he couldn’t help but continue. “It was just to be better, not anything...” He caught himself and stopped. “This -- what you found -- will change so many lives, will save so many...” Luke swallowed. That wasn’t what he wanted to say at all, but he felt it in that blank wall of hers, _this far and nothing more_. He stopped again.

It would have been better to have safeguarded more distant between them from the beginning. Shielded better. He’d been such a fool.

“Hey, we’re not done yet.” Mara’s tone went deceptively easy. “We still have to strand the ship. You can thank me after.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I should -- I should go.” The crew was probably having breakfast. He made to leave. 

“Skywalker.” There was nothing easy about her tone then, it was deadly serious. She slid of the desk and straddled the chair folding her arms around the backrest, leaning her chin on the top. “I didn’t find the detonator.”

This must be the reason for all that anxiety in her sense.

“Probably at the captain’s quarters.”

Her face was drawn tight. “Or maybe he carries it with him.”

Luke thought for a moment. “I’ll have to warn NRI once I contact them.”

She nodded. He sensed some more uneasiness in her. “Is there more?”

“The situation here...” Mara continued with that same grave note. “It’s as volatile as you say. I overheard the captain and Selmur.”

“Did they say anything?”

“About your culprit?” She shook her head. “Nothing you don’t know. Cridmeen with his conscience, Parsto with his, Clar and Pter overworked, and Crofin voicing his animosity towards you and the other new hire.”

It took him a second to put the last names together with the first names. Once he did, he scoffed. “Mahas is all talk.” 

She tilted her head. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. It’s just him in combination with everyone else...and that missing detonator. Excess paranoia and a mistake, you said. I’m agreeing with you -- based on how on edge they felt.” She shrugged. “Just be careful.”

“Okay,” he acknowledged, bemused. This situation was dangerous, but not anymore than anything else he'd been through. “Thanks.”

Mara bent her head forward, eyes unfocused for a second before she closed them. Her unease hadn’t faded, though he sensed she was keeping within bounds. The extent of it wasn’t percievable to him, probably well behind her shields. He supposed she had expected to find the detonator, not being able to access the captain’s quarters probably weighed on her. More so because she'd been up the whole night.

“Go rest,” he said. 

She lifted her head. “You have shift at the engine room?”

“Yeah, but I have some repairs to help with at level three first. I figure I’ll get to the engine room around midday for the final checks before we drop into the system, whatever it is.”

Mara nodded. “Okay. Once you guys are done I’ll pop in to deal with the hyperdrive.”

He risked dropping a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be done soon. Just get some rest.”

But apart from flinching, she didn’t move. Luke left her still on the chair leaning her forehead against the top of her backrest, arms curled loosely around it, a nimbus of vague anxiety around her.


	11. Critical Angle

  
__  
_Stupidly think you had it under control_  
_Strapped down to something that you don't understand_  
_Don't know what you were getting yourself into_  
_You should have known_  
_Secretly, I think you knew_ [[x](https://youtu.be/LVB2mXCTbNs)]  


  


  


Even as he sat at the galley with his breakfast, Luke was still thinking about Mara’s worry over not finding the detonator -- and chastising himself for it. His larger concern _should_ be their destination. The captain and Bareth had kept it quiet which system they’d be dropping into. As soon as Luke found out, he’d need to get word out in hopes that NR sec would catch up. 

Sabotaging _The Jackal_ would be less time sensitive. Once stranded, the crew would probably be off the ship which would lessen the hazard of the firegems considerably.

Just a little bit more, Luke told himself, and this whole thing would be over.

The thought however, brought back the gloomy reminder that once that happened, he and Mara would go their separate ways. She’d all but confirmed it. Now he just had to accept it. It’d been her decision; she didn’t owe him an explanation.

He really wanted one. At least just that.

Dreiz’s shadow fell on Luke as the pirate put his tray down. “Hey, you’re with Stri on level three?”

Luke nodded. 

Dreiz took the seat in front of him. “Have you looked at the task list?”

“Not the most recent one. I know Bareth slotted me with Enif for later on. Why?”

“I don’t think we’ll be done on level three by then.”

“The turbolift again? I thought you guys got that working yesterday.”

“Karked up again last night,” Dreiz grumbled over his caf. “Probably tripped up an air pump connector. We were working on the doors -- jamming all over the place. Bareth said it was slow as kriff too. Anyway me, Mahas, and Rennek got checks on the loadlifters to go through before we get in, so you, Stri, and Galen are stuck with that. I sent you the specs and our repair report. If you need anything else just shout.” 

“I’ll take a look. When are we getting in anyway?”

Dreiz thought back. “Not sure. Midday maybe. We’re busy ‘till then anyway, and the boss would have called a meeting in the morning if it were anytime soon. I figure we’ll get called in after lunch.”

Luke rubbed at his forehead. “I wish they wouldn’t be so close-lipped about the whole thing.”

“Precautions.” Dreiz shrugged. “You get used to it. At least it’s happening today. Can’t wait to get off this can for a bit.”

Luke nodded wearily. “You and me both.”

\--

  


Target: human male, light skinned, dark hair, beard, gray eyes, height 1.72m  
Location: Drenos depot, Baai’er Spaceport, docking bay 7635, CEC Action IV  
Method: vash, bisection  
Notes: sugar drop, neutralization alone, abort if risk over threshold  


  


Mara looked down at the message. She bit her lip, encrypting it, and slotted it for autosend upon receipt of signal. She thumbed her datapad off, and slipped it back in her satchel. This was the right thing to do, she’d known it since Skywalker mentioned contacting NRI. He’d given her little choice on the matter. She leaned against the wall from where she sat on the desk.

She didn’t know this particular contact or their crew personally, but Karrde’s people were on the whole efficient, competent, and followed instructions to the letter. In the extremely unlikely chance it went south, she had the certainty it’d be untraceable. All of Karrde’s field contacts would happily take a bolt over pointing fingers; you could hardly be the galaxy’s top information broker if that weren’t the case. 

It wouldn't go south anyway. It was still _Skywalker._

__

__

She tried to ignore that heavy feeling. It’d go away. Or maybe it wouldn’t, but she’d feel back on balance after it was done. It was all Skywalker’s fault. He shouldn’t even be here. That happened sometimes, someone at the wrong place at the wrong time.

There was nothing to be done but to simply take them out.

Mara wished she could meditate, but at any moment, she’d feel presences at the cabins. She drew on a refreshing technique as she waited. Too risky, what if --

She turned away from the thought. It'd be fine.

\--

“So is it an engine problem or not?” Galen shouted from the inside of the turbolift cabin.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Luke called back from where he was underneath the car. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his flightsuit. “Everything’s hooked up right.”

“Shavit. Could be software problem -- access control with the lift control,” Luke heard Galen reply.

“Rennek’s going to love that,” Strilath added back. He hadn’t been too pleased to be sharing shift with Galen given their spat in the galley days ago, that was obvious. At least he hadn’t been openly hostile, even if his animosity thrummed like a low level current through the Force.

“If it’s not too bad, I can take a look once we get up there. Maybe I can figure something out,” Galen said.

“I tightened a couple of hoses.” Luke called. “Let’s see if that helped some. I’m on my way.” 

Luke slid out the engine compartment and into the larger turbolift’s service shaft. He was soon back outside where Galen was examining the operating system while Strilath went over the specs on his datapad again. Galen hit the main floor button and the turbolift doors opened. They walked in and went up to the main level a couple of levels above them. 

The turbolift had just lurched into movement when he felt a shrill warning from Mara. 

He opened himself more consciously to the Force. A burst of rage from the direction of the living quarters flashed in his awareness. Luke’s muscles locked, shock of adrenaline pouring fast. A brewing storm of fury, it seemed, only intensifying as he and Galen and Strilath made their way up in the lift.

Mara was already at the vent shaft, he felt her moving towards him, initiating the training bond. As the latch fell into place, her worry slammed into him; he cut right through it to catch that the rest of the pirates had burst into his cabin on a mad search. 

There’d been nothing there for them to find which meant only one thing.

 _Framed_.

Luke froze in disbelief. How...but then he was simply going over his options. The approach of the crew didn’t give time for much else.

He’d kept his lightsaber with him at a side pocket of his flightsuit. To draw it out though would only make the situation worse, especially without the knowledge of that detonator. He could push it if were just him maybe, but _Mara_.

Beside him Galen and Strilath continued going over possible problems. The turbolift doors opened and they walked out, unaware of the situation about to unfold. Galen went over to the lift computer while Luke felt the pirates near from the other side of the level. 

“It goes down quicker than it goes up,” Galen was muttering. He typed some commands on the terminal. “Could be the same kind of build up as with the rigging from the holds. I guess you went in,” he told Luke, “so it’s Strilath’s turn.” 

Strilath groaned. “You do it.”

Galen made a face at him. “You know how to work the software?”

Strilath glared at him. 

“Yeah, go get the hoists, big man.”

“Kriffing obnoxious. Get me the hoists, Stonn. Stonn?”

Luke lifted a hand to quiet him. 

Strilath looked at him oddly. His eyes shifted to Galen who was overriding the turbolift door lock and sending the car down.

So far the anger continued gathering, but warning through the Force felt fragmented. Luke breathed a little easier. Maybe he could defuse the situation somehow. They must not have found anything. 

But if that were the case, why come for him at all?

“‘The kriff’s that all about, Stonn?” Strilath stared.

Luke forced himself to relax. “Trying to see if there was some weird clicking. Sometimes that signals some sort of railing problem -- well it does in droid servomotors. Thought it was worth a shot.” He handed Strilath the hoists.

Strilath snorted, taking them. “Yeah, no, turbolifts are a little more complicated than that,” he was saying when the _clap-clap_ of booted feet signaled the arrival of the rest of the pirates.

They stopped right at the path that led to the access corridor. Bareth walked up front, the angry faces of the rest of the crew behind him.

Strilath looked at them in surprise. “What’s the party all about?”

“Why doesn’t Galen here tell us?” Rennek spat, narrowing his eyes.

Luke’s head snapped in Galen’s direction.

Galen’s eyes widened. “How would I know?”

“What’s going on?” Luke turned towards them, keeping his movements deliberate.

“Bet you’ve never seen this neither." The captain walked up with something in hand. A vibroblade. No wait -- it looked older. Luke squinted slightly. Just a blade, antique, gems sprinkled across its hilt. 

Luke turned back to Galen, sensing his confusion. He had no clue about what the captain was saying. But neither did Luke for that matter. 

“I haven’t.”

“Or the mess of credits Bareth found in your room?” Enif added and Luke's eyes widened.

“Our IDs,” Mahas added from between gritted teeth. 

“What?” Galen’s voice rose sharply. “You--”

The captain raised his other hand, a blaster was in it. He leveled it at Galen. “We don’t tolerate thieves here.” A spike of sharp intent through the Force --

“Wait--” Luke reached out, nudging the blaster aim off with the Force. He ducked as the bolt slammed into the bulkhead. Galen flew at Mahas at that moment, his face twisting in rage. 

“You and your karkin’ lies!”

Mahas drew his own blaster, fired, and everyone threw themselves down as the bolt almost hit the terminal. Through the shower of sparks, Luke saw Galen yank Mahas’ grip away, successive bolts flying towards the access corridor. 

Mahas was shouting, “They found it in _your_ cabin--”

Galen had managed to push Mahas back, holding his blaster arm up, so that the ensuing shots hit overhead. Luke reached with the Force from his crouching position to hold it there as more sparks rained down.

“ _You_ put it--” 

“Kriffing thief!” Strilath’s roar broke through as he darted towards them. He grabbed Galen and flung him through the open turbolift doors.

Luke launched forward to the turbolift just as his senses blared warning. He was forced to whirl back instead, slapping he blaster Mahas meant to bring down at the side of his head to the pirate’s face hard enough to yield an audible crack of bone as Luke sent him down on his back. 

By the time Luke had scrambled back to the open turbolift doors, the snap of anguish hit. It was always worse the more open to the Force he was, the more violent the death. But this time there was a rebound, a surge of panicked horror that made him nauseous and dizzy, enough to momentarily drown out the clamor of the pirates. 

_Mara_.

In the chaos, he’d forgotten all about the training bond and undid it quickly. Too late. Something was wrong, very wrong, but he couldn’t do anything here other than turn warily, angling himself away from the open turbolift doors, shifting into a combat stance as he did, unsure of what to expect.

Mahas was cursing at him, no mean feat considering the state of his face at the moment. The pirate woozily got back to his feet and spat out blood on the floor, glaring venom at Luke. His hands curled into fists at his side as he projected ill intent like a rank stench.

Luke passed an evaluative look over him and the crowd of pirates. He wouldn’t need his lightsaber if it was just Mahas. The rest of the crew had already lowered their blasters. Mahas’ own was in Bareth’s hand.

“That’s enough!” the captain barked. 

Luke raised his hands. “I didn’t do anything.” How could the situation have spiraled out of hand this quickly?

Mahas lifted his head, face tight with barely suppressed rage. “His partner--”

“No reason to believe he had a partner!” Bareth snapped. “Get the kriff out of here before I whip you one too, Mahas. I’m sick of your shavit. Just for that you got cleaning duty. Coulda killed us all.”

“That's mine,” Mahas ground out, pointing to the blaster.

“Yeah, not anymore for being an asshole. Outta my face.” Bareth turned to Strilath. “You too. Boss wanted to make it nice and easy and you go and make a mess. Now you clean it up.”

Strilath set his jaw. “Fine.”

Luke didn’t bother to hide his disgust.

“Problem, Stonn?” the captain asked sharply.

Galen. Gone. Just like that. Senselessly. The blasters weren't a problem; it’d be fast and _well deserved_. There were only eight of them. 

Luke closed his eyes.

It still wouldn’t be right, not like this. Jedi weren’t above the law. There was still the detonator somewhere. And Mara...there was something wrong. He needed to find her.

He shook his head quickly. 

“Good. Join Enif and them at the holds to see that everything’s in place.” The captain pointed to the turbolift. “That’s what happens to thieves on my ship, you hear?”

Luke clenched his jaw. Galen hadn’t done it. He was certain.

“Take a few minutes to get your heads straight all of you, then back to work,” the captain barked. 

Luke didn’t need any more encouragement to leave. He shouldered his way out the crowd of pirates, breaking into a sprint to the back turbolift.

\--

Mara managed to make it to the ‘fresher before she got rid of the ration bar she had for breakfast. 

Her senses were still reeling from that horrible sensation, a wave of fear and torment when she pulled her head up from the rim of the toilet bowl. The last time she’d felt --

 _No_.

There was nothing else in her stomach, but she vomited again anyway. She flushed the toilet and dragged herself to the sink to clean up, but the feeling wouldn’t leave her. From the mirror a stranger looked back, pale, hollow-eyed and shaking. She turned the water as cold as it got and washed her face again, barely feeling the shock of it on her skin. 

There was dread right in her stomach, a block of ice in her veins, her heartbeat racing in her ears, constriction in her chest growing worse. Any moment now.

 _No_. 

It wasn’t real, it wasn’t even her who felt it. 

That blood-curling scream right in the marrow of her.

The room tilted a little. Mara leaned back against the wall, hands at either side of her, flat against the wall in the narrow space, and found herself sliding down.

It wasn’t real. There was no voice. There wouldn’t be any. It was gone now. It was gone.

She still couldn’t get enough air, and brought a hand just under her collarbone.

 _Stop. Just stop._

Mara squeezed her eyes shut, she could still _feel_ them, pouring into her, resounding like-like-like-- 

Death agonies. 

Mara bent forward, every single muscle wound tight, heels sliding forward in front of her, her forehead on her knees. 

An emotional bloodstain.

 _Breathe._ None of that was fucking real. None of it.

Nails biting into her palms as she balled her hands into fists, Mara forced air slowly out of her lungs. 

_Stop._

Then she forced it back in. 

Out. In.

None of it was real.

_Breathe._

Just another dead pirate. Another dead criminal.

_Breathe._

\--

Luke knocked for a full minute calling her name with no response. She was there, he felt her there, but something was off through the Force, and his stomach wound tight. He had a good idea what now. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d felt like this.

Mara hadn’t bothered to lock the door, so he simply went in. The water at the sink was running, but she was sitting by the wall in front of the sink beside the 'fresher door, utterly still. Her torso was bent forward, hands clenched at her sides, eyes open with a glassy stare to nowhere, water dripping down from her face as if she'd been washing her face and never bothered to dry it.

“Mara,” Luke whispered.

He’d seen her like maybe two or three times at Wayland. They’d never discussed it; he’d taken it for granted that he was the cause. Back then the best thing was to keep away, he'd decided. 

This was different. Now was different.

Memories of how she’d reacted to when he’d woken her up days ago stopped him from drawing closer, but he leaned forward to turn the water off.

She inhaled sharply and straightened up, back flat against the wall, some of that glassiness leaving her gaze.

“I knocked for a while...” Luke let his voice trail off.

Mara burst into action half a second later, bracing herself and tucking her feet under her to stand. Except once she lifted herself up, she staggered forward. He reached over to catch her before she collided head first with the sink, pulling her back, and she half fell against him instead. 

Her head lifted, eyes wide and pupils dark. She was trembling and he tightened his hold around her waist unthinkingly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispered. “Just sit down a second, okay?”

Luke carefully lowered himself to the floor, pulling her with him, one of his arms going to the middle of her back to give her more stability. Her legs ended up between his, most of her weight on one of his legs, which he noticed was not much, and that too made his heart sink. A month really hadn’t been that long. 

Mara made a low frayed sound, hand reaching up to grab at the fabric of his flightsuit just under the collar, hard as if she were falling, fingers clenching tight. She pressed her forehead against his chest, water from her face seeping through the fabric, and it felt nothing like with that time with the pirates. 

It felt like something was torn and loose... _broken_ , so much pain spilling from her Force presence that he had _no idea_ what to do, but to keep repeating, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Luke thought of probing deeper through the Force, but near instantly decided against it. Not with her like this. It had to be the ricochet of Galen’s death through the bond as he’d felt it. That was awful for him, it always was, no matter how many times he’d experienced it. He’d never thought what it could feel like for someone else, someone relatively untrained. 

He looked down at Mara, her hair pulled back in a tight braid, slightly disheveled. Or if there was something else...

Luke ground his teeth. There was still so much he didn’t know...about her, about the Force, about everything.

He felt Mara gather herself. The hand clutching his flightsuit opened. She drew a breath and pulled away jerkily, rubbing at her face as she stood, not looking at him.

That rending feeling had lessened, and he cautiously reached out with the Force. The anguish was still there, he felt her try to shove it aside, determination flowing bright. Bury it. It was like trying to stop a catastrophic line leak with your hand.

“Mara?” he called softly.

Determination changed over to a pulse of anger once she realized it wouldn’t go. Not like that. He felt his face twist. Some things had to run their course.

“Mara?”

She turned from him, slapped the faucet on full blast and splashed her face again, anger and frustration pouring out of her faster than the water. She shut the water off and put both hands at either side of the sink, bending her head down, her back curving forward, water streaming down from her face. The sound of the drops as they fell rang out in the sudden silence. In spite of it, she spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her words.

“I hate it.”

He stood slowly. Those were not the important ones. “What?”

Mara made a fist at the side of the sink. “The Force. Nothing good has come out of it. Not for me.” Water continued to drip down her brow, her cheeks. “I thought I...”

This was not unexpected, but no wisdom came to Luke, just one single certainty. 

“It’s not supposed to be like this.”

“What is?” she hissed without looking up.

“None of it. What happened just now.” Luke swallowed. “And what happened to you.”

Mara made a cracking sound, it took him a second to realize she was laughing. “Yeah.” Her dismissal was as clear as her skepticism.

He didn’t mean to touch her arm, he just _needed her to see_. Her head shot up the minute his hand fell on arm and she yanked it away, but at least she was looking at him.

“It shouldn’t have happened," he told her. "It should have never happened.”

Mara shook her head. “Makes no difference.”

Luke cocked his head. “You thought you what?”

“What?”

He gestured to the side. “What you were saying ‘I thought I...’...What was it?” 

She looked away. A long moment passed before she answered, “I thought I was done with it. I thought it was over. The Force--”

“The Force didn’t do this to you,” he interrupted gently. 

“I know that!” Her voice lowered to a whisper at the next. “But he’s dead now and I-I-I can’t.” She closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the wall beside the sink, voice turning husky. “I can’t,” she took a shaky breath, eyes growing dull. “I can’t even try to kill him for it.”

“Mara --”

The comlink sounded and he bit down on the urge to fling it across the room. Mara had turned away to dry her face. 

“What?” he answered the comm, watching as she left the ‘fresher.

“Shift, Stonn,” Enif said testily. “Or did you forget?”

“Five minutes.” Luke closed the line before he could reply.

Luke exited the ‘fresher. Mara had grabbed her satchel.

“Mara -- ”

“They’re waiting for you,” she said tonelessly as she climbed up on the desk. 

“Mara--”

“I’ll be by the engine room--”

“That’s exactly what _he_ would want.”

She turned sharply. “What?”

Luke stared up at her and braced himself. “Palpatine. That’s what he would have wanted -- you to _cede_ your gift to him, and for that to consume you with resentment and hate.”

Mara didn’t say anything and he could only hope he was hitting on _something_.

“This is not training. What we’re doing here. Not really. The situation here is not normal. It's not right.” Luke stepped closer, looking up at her. “Give training a chance, Mara. We’ll find a way to make it work. Back home. Together.” He paused. “At least think about it.”

Mara closed her eyes and turned her face. He wished he could reach for her hand, but she was too far away. 

“It’s not easy,” he said softly. “But it’s important.”

She scoffed lightly and opened her eyes. “Right. You need a trainee.”

He shook his head. “Not for me. For you.”

She scoffed. Yoda’s words flitted through his mind.

_Much anger in him._

The memory shook him a little as he stared up at her. What was he doing?

It was different for her. Worse. And he was not Yoda; all he knew could fit inside a grain of sand by comparison. The possibility of failure loomed large and terrifying, even if she agreed. Especially if she agreed. This was beyond him. He was no healer.

But was not leaving her like that just compounding wrongs? Mara had chosen none of it.

“Why?” she asked turning back to him.

Luke met her eyes squarely. _This_ was a truth he felt bone deep. “Because you don’t deserve what he left you.” 

He felt her pull to him, and waited. It was a matter of waiting with her. It had always been about waiting, hadn't it?

“I’ll...I'll think about it,” Mara finally said.

He nodded.

Mara turned and lifted herself back into the vent. 

\--

Mara focused on the hard metal of the vent shaft under her hands and knees as she crawled down the levels to the engine room. If she didn’t she’d feel that empty feeling, that disgust, the impotent loathing. 

_Because you don’t deserve what he left you._

She pushed it aside again. It worked for a time like a door with a broken mechanism that wouldn’t close the whole way.

She had other things to think about though. The hyperdrive wouldn’t be that difficult to tangle with, she could misalign the flux connectors the full way. It was an obvious tampering, but it'd be easy to fix. 

When they went off ship, Skywalker would no longer be her problem. She shut her eyes as the empty feeling got worse and she was forced to stop and breathe. She shouldn’t have given him room to hope anything. Her fingers itched to reach into her satchel and draw out the datapad, cancel the autosend.

Skywalker had no idea what she deserved.

Just right now--

She froze and shook her head, but the thought wouldn’t go away. 

_Could_ she return to Coruscant after all this? Could she smile and walk the halls of the New Republic’s government where _he’d_ put her?

And what if it went wro--

Mara stopped the thought, but that same constriction in her chest continued unabated. She forced herself to keep crawling forward.

Could she return to Karrde if she didn’t? But it wasn't that. Karrde’s last words still echoed in her ears.

 _This is below your paygrade, Mara_.

No, it wasn't about Karrde. It was about that impostor staring back her when she looked in the mirror. The one who would let things happen because she had no choice.

She had choices now.

The choice to take Skywalker’s offer beckoned. She could just leave these vermin to the bright courtrooms, to the play of politics and special interests. Maybe they’d be held accountable. Maybe they wouldn’t. In the end, they were no threat to the billions of beings going by their daily lives. They didn’t matter. Meyna didn’t matter. Their slaves even less. There would always be more pirates. More slaves.

It was a bright light. A new beginning. She lived. What was this to her? 

But how many times had she thought such a thing was in her grasp? She’d thought it was bad luck to be defrauded again and again. It wasn’t. She knew better now. The universe had done its own accounting. It had slotted her in her place -- not the gleaming halls of the New Republic with its shining promises, _that_ was the lie. How would someone like Skywalker ever understand? She was through with lies.

The squeeze in her chest made it hard to breathe.

Mara paused and forced more air into her lungs. She was fine. Everything was fine.

She had a job to do.

\--

Luke got to the engine room first. He knew she was in the vents somewhere. He could feel her, but shut off, and he could hardly stop and consider why for all the tasks and checks Enif was having him do in preparation to drop out of hyperspace. Then there was still the issue that he didn’t know which system they’d be dropping into.

He drew his focus to the relay computer -- those tasks at least he could do something about. 

“Jump beacon lock normal.”

Enif grunted from where he was running diagnostics on the sublight engines. “Velocity reading?”

Luke scanned the panel. “Within limits. Dampers on stand-by.”

“Shields?”

“Stand-by.”

“Rennek? ”

“Electrical okay. Computer systems okay. Hyperdrive okay.”

“We’re done here,” Enif concluded, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Let’s go, everyone’s probably at the lounge already.”

Luke was only half listening. He’d sent out his awareness up to where Mara was. She was finally on the move. As soon as the pirates left she’d station herself in the engine room, wait until they dropped out of hyperspace and disable their hyperdrive--

“Stonn?”

He looked over at Enif and Rennek. “What?”

They looked at him oddly. “You all right?” Rennek asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing. What happened earlier--”

Luke shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Rennek was grim. “He was your friend and all, but you gotta know, Stonn. A man who steals from his own crew is no one’s friend. Next to you he was new, but he’d done two drops. Two jobs with us, and it still meant nothing to him.”

Luke closed his eyes, grinding his teeth. Galen didn’t steal anything. But they believed it beyond a doubt. There was no way to push back against that and _not_ place himself under suspicion.

“No one’s saying Mahas and Stri did right,” Enif offered. “It was the captain’s call. But we already got Dunn shook and we need everyone to pull their own. Can’t have you just deciding to roll into shift whenever you feel like it, no matter how broken up you are.”

Luke didn’t answer.

“Hey,” Enif’s voice grew sharp, his expression darkening. “This here’s the job. Remember that.” He walked on in front of Luke and Rennek.

“Keep it together, Stonn,” Rennek said, following. “It’ll get better. Nothing that some tailhead pussy can’t solve.”

Luke scowled at him. “You’re disgusting.”

Rennek laughed and kept walking.


	12. Collection

__  
__  
_Didn't need them anyway (I got it)_  
_Don't make your own delay (You're not it)_  
_Look at me standing straight_  
_I'm on it (baby, I don't know)_ [[x](https://youtu.be/qSQqieroghY)]  


  


  


Luke stared at the building across the street. He was sure this was the address Mara had given him. It had no markings, but there was a Wookiee standing guard front of it who bellowed warning when he approached.

Luke shook his head. “I’m not looking for Dancer’s Alley.” 

The _Jackal_ hadn’t even landed before he’d learned this was the name of Drenos’ red light district, a waypoint for Twi’lek smuggling from Ryloth. That said, there was more than Twi’lek smuggling. Drenos on the whole belonged, at least in name, to Ryloth’s ruling clans, who were notoriously corrupt. Luke was willing to bet there was much that the authorities ignored. The feel wasn’t too different from other out-of-the-way depots he had visited. 

They’d landed two days ago, and since then the pirates’ mood had improved. The promise of time off ship was one reason. The return of their credits was another. Along with the stolen blade, the captain had found all the pirates’ credits, and since there was no knowledge of how much was any given pirate’s originally, he’d split it evenly among the seven of them all that remained. Grumbles spread among the crew here and there but they had tolerated it. 

He and Mara hadn’t had a chance to talk after she’d left for the engine room. By the time Luke had made it to his cabin to send his contact at NRI the coordinates of where the _Jackal_ was and an update, Mara was gone.

She’d seemed more receptive his offer to train her, but who knew. She probably had sent out her own message to Karrde’s people from here and would wait to get picked up just as he would. Maybe when they were back at Coruscant, she’d contact him.

Maybe she wouldn’t.

Luke tried to put it out of his mind as the routine went on for those extra days with the added difference that they were no longer enroute. The creep of the minutes, hours, and days felt like an epilogue to an unsatisfying end. He’d found the firegems, but despite thinking it over from the moment they’d touched down, there’d seemed no moment where he could safely take them off ship. Much as he tried too, the murderer's identity stayed frustratingly out of reach as well. There was no way to dig around more without arousing suspiscion. He’d have to wait for NR sec to intervene. This was their territory, not his.

Luke wondered what Mara was up to. It was strange after over a week of sharing the same space for her to simply be gone, completely out of the range of his senses, leaving no trace. Even when she'd become taciturn, there'd at least been her presence in his awareness. He wouldn't have expected such a small thing to matter, but it did. 

Around late afternoon on his second day at Drenos, Luke had been about to thumb off his datapad when he received the ping of a new unmarked message with an address and a time under the name “Niss Quiller.”

He’d known instantly it was from her.

Luke reached towards the building with his Jedi senses. At first he thought the building might have been one of Karrde’s safe houses at first, but now looking up at the stonework of it, he felt like it was a restaurant or that sort of thing.

“I was given a name,” Luke told the Wookiee.

The Wookiee’s combative demeanor eased up and he fished out a comm from his bandolier, keying a number. He growled something into it that must have been a code -- something Luke didn’t understand at any rate.

A side door opened and a very attractive blue-skinned female Twi’lek in a clingy dress walked out, heels clicking on the floor.

She had an automatic smile on her face and a set expression by the sound of it in heavily accented Basic.“Welcome to--”

All of it cut while she took in his rumpled flightsuit and her sense instantly flipped to contempt. She turned to the Wookiee and spoke in what Luke recognized as Bocce. She spoke too quickly for Luke to make out more than a few words about being on break. Her tone made it clear she was irritated though.

He did understand when the Wookiee informed her that Luke had a name.

She grumbled something else under her breath, but turned to Luke and asked in Basic, “What is the name?”

“Niss Quiller.”

“Oh. This way.”

The Wookiee suggested she be nice, but the Twi’lek laughed and lifted a hand in a rude gesture.

Luke followed her into a small, but empty reception area. She went to the wall in front of them and placed her palm on it.

“Identity confirmed,” crooned a computerized voice. What was this place?

“Your weapons,” the Twi’lek said flatly, stretching a hand. “They’ll be returned to you after.”

He unholstered the blaster he carried and gave it to her.

“Just the one?”

Luke nodded.

The Twi’lek’s contempt intensified. “Computer, do a weapons check.”

“Weapons check commencing.”

He only had time to start in surprise before a laser light shot out from his feet and traveled upwards.

Just as quickly as it had come, it was done. “Weapons check concluded. No weapons found.”

Luke breathed easier. True, lightsabers were rare enough not to make all but the most circumspect of weapons check systems, but this had been largely unexpected.

Seemingly satisfied, the Twi’lek placed her palm on the wall again. The whole room started moving and he realized it was a turbolift. What was this place?

The wall before them opened after it came to a stop in what Luke assumed was the level below.

It opened to an enormous, smokefilled half darkened room about the size of a warehouse. The building must be made of some sort of soundproof material, because he hadn’t had the barest inkling outside, but there were the musicians playing at the far left end of it, so far he couldn’t make out the species, a packed dance floor in front of the stage with variously colored strobe lights sweeping through it at random intervals.

There seemed to be a dining area immediately before them. Luke and the Twi’lek hostess wove between two other Twi’lek servers, their dresses the same as the hostess, going over some document in datapad. Their clothing seemed to be made of a phosphorescent fabric, bright in the dim lighting. One of them raised her eyes to him as he walked past, then went back to the datapad her partner was pointing at. 

Luke felt heat creep up to the back of his neck. He couldn’t make out much of the the patrons, other than to get the impression the make up was similar to the depot with Twi’lek being the predominant species, but the glimpses he got was that, unlike him, the humans here, at least, were well dressed. 

Raised, rounded platforms were scattered throughout with Twi’lek dancers following the music. The sequins in their skintight costumes caught the lights that flickered from above them. A mass of waitresses in their phosphorescent dresses moved fluidly between tables of patrons of various species. 

Luke wished Mara had told him. He could have scrounged a decent tunic from somewhere if he’d known.

“None of them are for sale, Spacer,” the hostess hissed beside him, interrupting his thoughts. Hostility dripped from her.

Luke blinked. “What? No, I wasn’t--”

“And we have a _dress code_ \--”

“Jun’zar!” an older yellow-skinned Twi’lek scolded as she walked up in an equally form fitting dress that seemed to be their uniform. She said something in Twi’lek, her lekku twitching.

Sullen, Jun’zar turned away, her lekku swishing as she walked away.

“I am sorry,” the Twi’lek said in slightly less accented Basic. She put a soft hand on his arm. “She’s new. May I have the name?”

Luke knew she was not asking for his. “Niss Quiller.”

Her eyes widened and she straightened up more. “Certainly.”

She led him to the far side of the huge dining area. 

They went down some stairs to a wall where just like the previous, his escort put a hand on the wall, but there was no computerized acknowledgement as the section of the room lowered.

“Please wait,” his guide said and lifted a comm. “The Baroness’ guest has arrived. Is her meeting done?”

The answer seemed to be a warbled yes and the Twi’lek gestured for him to follow to a door. She input the code and the door slid open. 

It appeared to be a lounge area, not that much larger than the one in the _Jackal_. A group of six female Twi’lek clustered around a table with a blue hologrammed map, most dressed in trousers and tunics, far more casual than anything he had seen upstairs. Luke immediately felt more at ease. He couldn’t see Mara, but he felt her presence among them. Just that made him brighten, the gloominess of the past days vanishing. He hadn't allowed himself to consider what she might want to see him for, but now he dared think it could be she'd decided to take him up on his offer. The voices of the Twi'lek drew him back to the moment.

“You saw the estimates that Kel’riva provided you. This is the right time,” a red-skinned one was saying, her lekku twitching animatedly as she pointed to some numbers at the side of the map.

His guide had stopped a conservative distance from them. He did the same.

“We can also provide you with a five year plan, so you can evaluate the long term investment,” a green-skinned one added from beside the first speaker. “Even our most conservative projections give us significant revenue growth.”

“But you do realize we will have to raise your percentage?” That was Mara. This was a business meeting of some sort, he thought over the buzz he felt at the sound of her voice.

“Yes,” the red-skinned Twi’lek straightened up and he thought he could see a flash of black hair. “And we are prepared to make the payment up front.”

“All right,” Mara said. “I’ll take this proposal back. One last question.” Luke saw her hand go up to a section of the map. “This section does not belong to you, does it? That’s the tail end of Dancer’s Alley.”

There was a low chuckle from a Twi’lek he couldn’t see. “That is not a problem. We will _vacate_ it.”

Mara’s voice was stern. “Keep it clean. You know where he stands on this sort of thing.”

“Understood.”

The red-skinned Twi'lek addressed Mara and turned off the map, “We will await Mr. Hart’s answer. Thank you for meeting with us. If there’s anything at all you need, to feel free to comm. I’ll send someone to see you and your guest are cared for.”

One by one the Twi’lek peeled away, revealing Mara sitting in the middle of the circular couch. Well, that _should be_ Mara. 

Since he’d been on the ship he’d never seen her hair loose like that, certainly not that straight or glossy, and while he had seen her in a dress, this was nothing like the outfit the pirates had made her wear. 

The knee-length dress she had on now was as form fitting as what his Twi’lek beside him was wearing, the same color of her hair. It’s square bodice left her shoulders bare, save for the fall of hair. She’d picked up some straight blunt bangs at some point. They fell slightly past her eyebrows, making her cheekbones stand out. The effect was startling, enough that he barely felt the press of curiosity from the Twi’lek as they left the room.

The last Twi’lek cast a final glance in Mara’s direction, lekku curling slightly. “A pleasure to meet you, Baroness.”

Mara made a noncommittal noise and didn’t look up from the datapad she’d picked up.

The door closed at the last of them left, including the one who had led him here.

“What is this place?” Luke asked.

Mara looked up. “It's called the _Inun_.” 

That didn't answer his question, he thought with mild annoyance, but she was passing him her datapad. “This is the dinner menu. Mark up what you want.”

He did so absentmindedly. “I thought we’d go to a cantina.” He handed her the datapad back.

She marked up her order and sent it. “More private here. And as long as I was here I thought I could get some work out of the way. Also the food's better.” 

“The owners work for...” he stopped himself. Mara’s warning was clear through the Force. He blushed a little. 

Mara hesitated. “Two things we don’t touch: flesh trade and spice.”

“I know,” Luke replied quickly. “The reputation.”

“Sure,” she said with twist of her lip.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Was she mocking him? “What?”

“Flesh trade and spice belong to the Hutts. Our standing isn’t anything to shake a stick at -- we have more eyes and ears anywhere than _anyone_ else. But firepower? Soldiers? The kajidics have been at it since the Old Republic. To tangle with them is stupid.” She sighed and her voice softened. “There are no gentlebeings. Not here.”

Luke took a spot in the couch beside her. “Why would you ever accept that you have principles other than self interest?” he mused. “It may actually make you look like you like helping people.”

The corner of her lip twitched a bit. She wrinkled her nose. “Awful.”

“Worked out okay for a smuggler I knew.”

“So I hear. But I never wanted a princess.” She’d lined her eyes dark, which made the green stand out more. Striking as they were, he remembered them most vividly wide and stricken. 

“How are you?” he murmured.

Mara looked away. “Hungry and hoping their waitress won’t take long.”

He blinked in disappointment. That was how it was with her, any slip in her armor was swiftly covered up. 

“I was happy to get your message.” Before he could overthink it he added, “I thought you’d leave without saying goodbye.”

Mara leaned forward, emotion suddenly welling up, and he found himself scooting closer and placed a hand at her back. She flinched, and he thought about drawing back, he should. 

He didn’t want to. 

\--

The hand Skywalker had dropped in a light touch at the center of her back burned. She should move away, but Mara doubted that would help the cloying feeling.

It’d been just two days. Two days off ship, but tailing the captain and his first mate as they sent feelers out to the underground slaver networks for possible workers. Mara wasn’t sure how much longer they would stay and suspected it had to do with finding the new hires. Too little time had passed to get an adequate opportunity for taking out the captain. He was more paranoid than anyone else in the crew, moving only around the heavily populated parts of the depot and never traveling alone. 

She’d left him last at the headquarters of one of the main gangs who controlled the area just north from there. The logistics of mounting a strike in that location were a nightmare. Other opportunities would present themselves. She had a couple of tricks up her sleeve yet, and she knew she had some time before they could raise ship. She'd have to fix their hyperdrive at any rate if things went badly enough to force her to leave with the crew again.

That said, she needed to know how much time _exactly_ the crew had been told they’d have at Drenos. The easiest way to get that was through Skywalker...under a carefully controlled situation, with the added advantage of getting him out of her way...and here they were.

She’d even done some work. For a second it seemed that that everything was back to normal, but he just had to ask with that open wistfulness in his sense, and suddenly everything was right _there_ again, raw and tight at her throat. Why?

_”You have a strange view of smuggling if you consider it mainstream society.”_

Karrde had told her that ages ago, it seemed.

“Are you okay?”

Mara blinked and inhaled. She needed to know the state of things with the pirates, when they were going to leave. Information collection. She needed information. 

“Hey...”

And what had she said? She’d said -- she’d said --

_“Trust me. Compared with some of what I’ve done, it is.”_

“Hey,” Skywalker’s voice got a little louder, his hand on her back a little heavier. He shifted even closer, hip against hers, hand sliding up and across to her shoulder, his heat seeping into her. She didn’t want it, not the way he whispered her name, nor the cautious way he touched her.

But maybe it was what was coming to her. She could keep her head down and take some more yet. Just a little bit longer.

“When is your ride getting here?” she asked quietly, raising her head to look up at him.

Worry flitted through his features. “They’re not that far off. Coruscant estimates two more days.”

“And when was...the crew going to raise ship?”

Skywalker caught on. “Tomorrow midday. When's yours picking you up?”

Mara made a note of it. “Not sure.”

There was a signal by the door and Mara put some distance between them. The Kala'unn were very good. Chances were their cameras would eventually register that Luke Skywalker was here. His Force illusion couldn’t possibly extend to holocams. 

Karrde had taught her that flaunting powerful friends had its time and place. There was quite a bit of prestige to hosting the man who’d destroyed Jabba the Hutt’s operation in these circles. Karrde had said his employees' debts were his organization’s and vice versa. So, too, their rewards.

She’d let the Kala’unn collect their reward. Convenient.

One of the waitresses walked with a hovertray bearing their orders beside her. She guided the tray to the table by where they sat and gestured to a flask beside their drinks. “Courtesy of the house. Enjoy.”

She left soon after and Skywalker stared at the flask curiously.

“It’s probably a mild psychoactive.”

He looked at Mara in confusion. “They sent something to incapacitate you?”

At that, she laughed. “No.” She waved a hand. “No. You’ve been spending too much time with those lowlifes. The Kala’unn are good associates. This is a standard hospitality in places like this. Mild. Not my thing, but...” She shrugged. “Probably not your thing either, given...” She drew a hand in a circle in his direction. 

Skywalker understood and nodded. He pulled his plate towards him. She had no appetite, but she forced herself to pick at her food.

“Oh,” Skywalker said between bites. “Much better than cantina food.”

Mara summoned a tight smile. “Everything’s first rate here.”

He looked over at her plate. “You don’t like yours?”

“Just not as hungry as I thought.”

There it was, that concern again. 

She could almost hear him think, how to phrase things, carefully, oh-so-carefully. “Do you have another job after this or will you head back to Coruscant?”

Mara wondered if he thought he was being subtle about training. “I haven’t decided.”

Skywalker nodded and she felt all the things he wanted to say, thick in the air between them. She felt, too, how he pushed them back lest they interfere with his benevolent aspirations for her. 

“Baronness, huh.” 

He was aiming at levity. She could grant him that and tilted her head. “What?”

“It’s just so...” 

Mara raised her eyebrows. “Just so...?”

He grinned. “Like from a cheesy holothriller.”

She let her lips curve into a smile and tilted her head. “I like it.”

He was still grinning. “Never pegged you as the holothriller type.”

“Never pegged me as the downlevel type either, and look at you learning all sorts of things, Skywalker.”

He lifted up his utensil. “Still curious about those noodles.”

“I don’t see why." Mara lifted her glass for a drink. "You know exactly how they taste now.”

His eyes fell to the glass before skittering back up. That was strange. She looked down at it, realizing belatedly he'd been looking at the imprint of her lipstick on the glass. 

“That’s why.”

And somehow that brought the conversation to a standstill, the mood changing abruptly. How could it not at the bizarre intimacy of something like that? It only fed the equally perverse pull they felt towards each other. 

Mara was beginning to suspect there was no rock bottom to the sick joke of her life.

Skywalker put his utensils down. “I didn’t mean to remind you--”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he insisted. 

What could she answer to that? Of course, he was right and of course, in the end it didn’t matter. But Skywalker was staring at her like nothing short of his hand right in her ribcage would suffice, like he'd keep _pushing_ , so she bit out, “It’s not as bad as it used to be.” 

Mara moved her food around on her plate. “This was the first time since...since Wayland. It’s not...it’s not even the same thing.” She exhaled. “So, no. You’re right. It’s not fine. But it will be.” She won't make the same mistake again.

He nodded and then his hand fell atop hers, giving hers a light squeeze, before withdrawing. Mara looked off to the side. It wasn’t worth it, she should have figured it out from the logs when the _Jackal_ was going to leave. 

“I didn’t know it was going to be a place like this.” Skywalker looked around the room. “When they took me through the main level...” He shook his head self consciously.

She did chuckle there. Neither had any idea. It _was_ funny. “All those waitresses staring at you in horror.”

“Disapproval," he corrected. "And I don’t see _you_ in your flightsuit.”

“I’m working. I wouldn’t be wearing this whole get-up if I wasn’t.” She laughed a bit more. “I’m sure these waitresses see badly dressed spacers all the time.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

She grinned. “It’s the truth.”

“Yeah? What would a _baronness_ know?”

“Ah,” she lifted a finger, “A baronness wouldn’t. A waitress would.”

He scrunched his face at her. “A waitress? You?”

She nodded. “A long time ago.”

Skywalker's expression was all skepticism. “Really?”

“A very good one. Very...” she paused for emphasis. “Solicitous.”

Skywalker looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or not, so she lightly slapped his arm. “Joke.” She stretched a hand towards her drink. “I was the worst waitress in the Outer Rim.”

“Oh, that can’t be true.” He smirked. “There are a lot of bad waitresses in the Outer Rim.”

“Well.” She arched an eyebrow. “I was so bad, my then-boss took it upon himself to teach me how to properly approach clients with grace and charm. And he was Houk,” she named the froglike species known for their massive bulk and raw physical strength.

Skywalker burst out laughing, it was more than a bit infectious and she found herself laughing too.

“He also said I,” she found herself laughing a little harder. Houks were notorious for their short tempers. “He said I had anger management issues.”

By then Skywalker was coughing and perilously close to choking, but she wasn’t doing much better either and then sometime later she was cursing, running her index finger under her eyes to wipe at the tears, wheezing at the ache in her middle.

Skywalker was smiling. “So a Houk taught you all about grace and charm? Somehow I thought you'd have learned that earlier.”

“Tried.” The humor began fading. “It was right after...after everything. I was on the run and everything I was good at...it was just harder. I was just making it through the days.” She took a sip. “Drig was a good guy," she went on. "Gave me a room over the cantina -- no questions asked." She let the memory linger for a bit and couldn't stop a smile from sneaking onto her face. "He had a terrible habit of calling me ‘chikra’--it’s what Houk call their kids." She shook her head. "I hated it.”

“How old were you?”

“A very ancient twenty-one,” she said emphatically.

He chuckled. 

“Saw me give some troublemakers my two-for-one special and _still_ called me that.” Mara scoffed.

Skywalker winced, then looked like he was about to say something, but he didn't, and she narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing." They both stayed quiet before he spoke, "And you left?”

Mara shook her head. “Not right away. Told myself I would, but weeks later I’d still be there. I have no idea how his cantina didn't get shut down. I didn't even want to think about how many sanitation codes he broke daily. Still don't."

"Your stomach lining is tougher than duramentium," Skywalker murmured.

She looked at him a bit oddly. "It is," she conceded with a weird sense of deja vu. "Thanks to him, probably. I thought it was just a Houk thing.” She fiddled with her glass, smudging her own lipstick on it with her index finger. “Figured out later it was a Drig thing.”

“But you did leave.”

She nodded, eyes on the glass. “Eventually.”

“And Drig?” he asked cautiously. “How’d he take it?”

“He didn't." She took another sip of her drink. "He was murdered. Some shakedown by Black Nebula thugs. I left after that.” 

She looked up just in time to see Skywalker’s face fall.

“I was out of practice," she blurted out tonelessly. "Couldn’t do anything for him.”

There'd been too many. Once the lightsaber had finally been in her hands, it’d been easy. She’d simply swept her arm out, lopping of their heads in one smooth arc. It had felt nothing like the cuffs. No press of power. And why would there be? The Force had been silent. It had always been silent when she’d truly needed it. 

"I'm sorry," Skywaker said softly.

Mara pressed her lips together. "I was too." 

She'd made the thugs sorrier. Even after the bodies lay smoking on the ground, she'd felt that burn within her. Not enough that these scum should die. Whoever sent them had to die too.

The sickening part was that it’d been an old job assigned to her shortly after Tatooine -- one she’d been tricked into thinking she’d finished. The head of the gang had escaped and continued his terrorizing and killing. _That's_ what failure meant. The Emperor had been dead, Drig had been dead, but she’d taken Lord Dequc's head and turned Black Nebula into charred meat anyway. For the Emperor. For Grib. 

For herself.

It had been her last act as the Emperor’s Hand.

Her throat drew tight. How could everything be this tainted? Everything. 

She’d still run Black Nebula to the ground again, she told herself. And again. However many times she’d need to. With her teeth if she needed to. For Grib. For herself. That made all the difference. That was the only difference that counted. It was the only one she had.

Someone had to take out the trash.

Skywalker’s hand was heavy and scalding at her back. He'd inched closer again.

Mara straightened up.

“Kriffing hell, Skywalker.” She kept her feelings locked and forced a smile.

She caught the flash of hurt before it vanished into the usual concern. He’d probably taken as a rebuff, which it was, but not for the reason he thought. Skywalker wouldn’t understand. It wasn’t about what she deserved.

It was about what she was. 

“This just keeps getting worse and worse for you,” she said airily. "I didn't message you to tell you a sob story, I promise." 

He didn’t speak for a long enough that she felt the silence drag. When he did all he said was, “Luke.”

She looked at him in puzzlement. His hand was still at her back.

He gave her a small, tentative smile. “I saw you almost lick that noodle bowl. I think we’re on a first name basis now.”

\--

Luke hadn’t missed that she hadn’t moved away. It was the only reason he’d opted for something casual. They were in uncertain ground. 

He felt within him the flood of all he could say -- that no one should be made so dependent as to end powerless, that she’d never need to feel that way again if she’d make her talents her own. He itched to insist that training was the right thing.

She needed to come to that choice on her own, he reminded himself.

Mara had gathered herself, her sense muted as it tended to be right after any spill of emotion.

There was something in her voice that alarmed him when she murmured, “You know what? I should go.” She began reaching for her purse.

“Wait, why did you message me?”

Mara froze. “You’re staying on the ship, right?” Luke nodded and she made a face. "With the explosives."

“Yeah. If they’re planning something else," he explained. "Or if they decide to take off ahead of schedule, I should be there.”

“Right. Well...that's what I was thinking. It's hazardous. If you needed a hand trying to get them off the ship..." She shrugged.

Luke thought for a moment. “They wouldn’t be planning anything tonight. Chances are the crew won’t be back until very late, if at all...”

Mara smiled one of those edged smiles. He couldn’t help thinking it looked...stunning in that new outfit of hers and immediately clamped down on the thought, soundly irritated at himself. 

“I imagine,” Mara began. “Your people’s job would be so much easier if the gems were off ship.”

“It would.” Luke paused. “The captain assigned me watch while they were out. Starts in an hour.”

He’d expected a response, but not quite that fast. Mara opened her purse and checked her chrono. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Meet you there then.” She went to stand.

“Wait, let’s just le--”

She tilted her head. “You don’t feel it?”

Luke squinted at her, and then he could feel a mass of about ten beings heading his way. Twi’lek he recognized some of the earlier Force signatures. Not a threat...the opposite, weirdly enough, he reflected with a furrowed brow, and he didn’t understand.

The door opened and the red-skinned Twi’lek who appeared to be the leader practically ran to Mara, as the rest crowded the doorway, their eyes heavily on him, trading whispers to one another, their lekku moving animatedly. The leader’s eyes traveled from Mara who was standing with her purse to Luke sitting down on the couch still.

“Baronness,” she gasped. “You have brou--”

Luke himself stared from the Twi’lek to Mara. What was going on?

Mara brought a finger to her lips. “We can count on the Kala’unn’s discretion for this visit?”

“Always.” The Twi’lek’s response was automatic.

“Good.”

Mara turned to him. “An hour.” She started walking out.

He stood. “Wait, you --”

The Twi’lek turned to him. “We apologize for our rudeness earlier." He barely heard her as he saw Mara walk out, the crowd of Twi’lek parting to let her through. "Unknown visitors have given many of us cause for worry. We...” 

One Twi’lek said something to Mara he couldn’t hear and Mara nodded. She reached to grab a jacket and helped Mara put it on, placing a hand on her arm as she led her out of the room.

Meanwhile the blue-skinned Twi’lek who’d greeted him inched forward, her head down, shame pouring off her.

“I am so sorry. I -I didn’t know,” she said. “My entire clan on Ryloth was massacred by Bayal Corp for not giving up their land.”

Luke shifted his attention to her. Why was she telling him this? “I’m so--”

“The Savage Heads stole my children.” Another female Twi’lek had come forward. One he’d never seen before, who was several decades older.

Yet another came forward right after. “Laiertech Industries poisoned my clan’s land and our fathers were forced to sell us or starve.”

The wave of emotion seemed to swell, stories like them following, the Twi’lek gathering behind the leader. Luke reeled, thinking the answer was there, but why had Mara left? What was this all about?

After all the Twi’lek were behind the leader, she said, “Dummy corporations. Slaver gangs. All underlings to one foul slithering creature.” Her face twisted, lekku writhing as she made a fist. “An abomination who deserved to be torn into pieces. May he suffer in hell.”

Luke’s eyes widened.

She lifted her face. “We are the Kala'unn and we provide a number of services to various business partners of our choosing. Our reach is far more than meets the eye and our prices are commensurate on our ability to provide the information our partners seek.” She paused. “But _you_...” he realized with alarm that somehow they all _knew_ who he was, “you need only to make your wish known.”

The Twi’lek’s eyes settled squarely on him. 

“The Kala’unn are honored to be in your debt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon Notes:
> 
> 1\. The exchange with Karrde about smuggling not being mainstream comes from "First Contact"
> 
> 2\. The Black Nebula stuff is from the _By the Emperor's Hand_ comics. Remember that hit job Dunn mentions way back in Ch 9?: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Somewhere Outer Rim, maybe try to talk to what’s left of Black Nebula, but they’ve been a mess since that hit job a while back.”_
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah.


	13. Smoke Screens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is for my writerly conscience more than anything. I know fanfic works along a horizon of expectations.
> 
> So final warning that this is not a romance fic, as much as it is an involved character study, and that it will go to objectionable places. It's got 24 parts and I don't want to have anyone hang that long expecting this fic to be something it isn't and then feel bamboozled. You guys have been too good to me for that.

__  
__  
_When my intuition got me in a mission,_  
_we see eye to eye but you ain't in my vision_  
_Oh no, I said oh no_ [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Gil_5p7fPM)]  


  


  


There were any number of reasons why a female human would want to pass for Twi’lek, especially in a supply depot this close to the Gaulus sector. Like all waypoints for illicit materials and activities, anonymity was at a premium -- anything from thrill seeking to espionage would make such a disguise convenient. True to form, this, too, was easily found, provided you knew where to look.

Mara wondered idly if Skywalker was annoyed about the incident back with the Kala’unn, but it had been his own fault for being careless about security systems. He had mentioned when they'd first met up at the _Jackal_ that he was trying his Force disguise for the first time. His misstep could serve as an alert, something he might keep in mind the next time he put it to use. A lesson in her trade. 

Free of charge. 

A part of her still recoiled. Whatever. From what she knew about him the only danger he faced was embarrassment that his cover had lasted forty minutes, if that. 

She had enough time to think over her disgusting display over dinner while she’d slipped into this new disguise. Since when did she wallow? In front of Skywalker no less. Not once. Twice now. Just more confirmation that she was losing her edge. 

She’d lost enough after Wayland. Let others fall into the dead end of feeling. 

It was time to act.

The captain might not be in her reach, but she could keep herself busy otherwise.

She did wish the Kala’unn would provide a bit of crude distraction for Skywalker so she wouldn’t have such a time constraint right now, but it was a flip thought. The Kala'unn had very strict prohibitions about that sort of thing, and even if they hadn’t, they knew they had a nice, upstanding Jedi in their midst, and even if _that_ didn’t suffice, the aforementioned Jedi was as nice and upstanding as it got. That sort of flesh lure would fall flatter than stale slapcake. 

Mara had to work fast. 

When she got to the docking bay she found that there was one pirate on watch. The tech, Rennek Pter, idled on a chair in front of the ship. The captain and his first mate might be out of her sights for now, but Pter was not. 

There was no way she could pick him out here though. The body would be too easily found. He had to come with her out of the docking bay and into the spaceport area. She’d already spied a solitary clearing between this bay and the next. Her blaster was snug at the holster on her thigh, digging a little due to the suppressor attached to it, but easy to reach through the slit in her skirt.

She didn’t have to make this hard on herself. She could simply wait until Skywalker was completely out of the equation, but that was not happening until tomorrow at the earliest and NRI might be in by then. She might end up wasting time and be forced fix the ship to keep the pirates in her grasp. Getting rid of bodies was far easier offship than it was on, even without the danger of the firegems to account for. In any case, less bodies meant less unknown variables and a quicker, tidier job in the long run. 

She’d already wasted too much time.

Mara passed a hand through the headdress she’d picked up with the fake lekku, a chalky white like the rest of her. She’d ditched the dress she’d worn with the Kala’unn in favor of the typical outfits the female Twi’lek from Dancer’s Alley were made to wear. That entailed slathering on an obscene amount of body paint, since the costume left her midriff bare and the skirt picked up low on her waist with slits at both sides. Luckily, the slits in this skirt were low enough to conceal the holster on her inner thigh. Mara kept her satchel and donned a cloak until she was near the docking bay. Once there, she took it off and crammed it in her satchel before she sashayed in.

“Hey,” Pter looked over from his chair and then went back down to his datapad. “This area is private.”

“This was the address I was given.”

His head lifted. “By who?”

“Sauminn.” Mara named the pirate who had been murdered two days ago. “We have an agreement.”

“Galen?” Pter made a face as if he'd smelled something awful. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone? He owes me.”

“Then you’re shavit out of luck. Galen can’t pay anybody. He’s dead.”

“What?” she hissed. “He owes me!”

“Not my problem. You know where the exit is.”

Mara made as if to think for a moment. “Wait, what’s your name?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Keep it moving, twiggie. I’m not interested.”

She didn’t have to fake the expression of hostility. “Kriff you spacer, I’m not a whore.”

“No, you just look like one.” He gestured to the door with his chin. “Get the kriff out.”

She straightened her shoulders. “You’ll want to hear me out.”

He looked at her skeptically and she fished into her satchel for the vial she packed precisely for this outcome. She tossed it at him and watched his eyes widen once he looked at it in his hands.

No, they did not deal in spice, but anyone who knew anything knew how to procure it especially in rank depots like this. Lacing it with a lethal dose of a sedative was a little more complex, but still relatively simple, all things considered. If Pter took it, she wouldn’t have to waste her blaster’s charge at all.

“High grade. Your friend was doing my friend a couple of favors.”

She watched as Pter’s mouth fell open. “He was doing spice drops for you on the side?” 

Mara ran her hands through her lekku and paused as if weighing continuing, “He missed the last one though. My friend wasn’t too happy about that, but Sauminn promised the credits back and something _shiny_.”

Pter’s’ face darkened. “That karkin’ thief. That’s why the boss doesn’t allow double dipping. Mahas was right,” he muttered, then raising his voice, he addressed her, “Tell your friend he's kriffed then.”

“Wait. Thief? Sauminn stole from you?”

Pter went back to his datapad. She spared a bit of disappointment he wasn’t going to take it there and then, making her job easier. “Get lost, girlie.”

“We still need runners.”

“Don’t give a kriff.”

“We can pay you.”

“Do I need to go over there and throw you out?”

“We can pay you _well_. Look at the vial again. _High grade_. It’s not spice, moron, it’s ryll,” she named its purer variant. “You know what that shavit goes for outside this sector?”

Pter's head snapped up.

Mara smiled. "Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look. C’mon, I’ll make the introduction.”

Pter met her eyes and she sensed a bit of appraisal from him. “Triple what you paid that thief.”

She scowled at him. “First you want to throw me out and now you want to bargain. Kriff no. Give it back.” She stretched a hand, finger talons out.

He smirked and slipped the vial into the pocket of his flightsuit. “Come and get it.”

If she only had the guarantee he’d take it. She much preferred a sure thing though. 

“Keep it. Watch what happens. There’s a reason Sauminn stole from you to pay my friend. He doesn’t take kindly to thievin’ either." She gave him one of her real smiles. "It’ll cost you. Big.”

She had barely turned when he said, “Double.”

Mara turned back and flashed him a look filled with contempt. “You threatened me. Same and nothing more.”

“Not like you haven’t been before. Don’t feed me that hurt feelings shavit. Double.”

She laughed. “You didn’t threaten my feelings. You threatened my bottom line, monkey boy. I’m a business woman.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You know what’s going to threaten your bottom line more, wormhead trick? You prancing out of here looking for another runner. You and your friend are clearly raw for one. How high and dry did Galen leave you anyway?”

Mara feigned some more consideration. “One and a half. Final offer.” She leveled a hard stare at him. “The vial.”

He grunted, but threw it her way and she picked it out of the air, dropping it back into her satchel. She waved a hand to beckon him and walked to the door. Once there, she waited until he input the passcode to lock the bay. 

They walked out towards the access corridors of Drenos’ spaceport. It was much smaller than Lothal’s and soon enough they were at the main street. From there she wove into a more minor street. At this late hour the street was all but abandoned, only a few passerbys of various species scurrying on their way to the various establishments near the spaceport. 

Pter walked beside her in silence, projecting growing wariness, possibly at the emptiness of the darkened path. Glare from the lights from the main street and the beaming lights of intermittent landspeeders lit the path hazily, fog growing thicker with the hour. If she hadn’t mentioned so many details about Sauminn, she doubted Pter would have been so foolish as to follow her. She’d be able to weave them back to the clearing behind the spaceport in two streets. 

“Is your friend far? We could have taken a speeder.” Worry had made his tone accusing.

“No,” she replied. “We’ll be there --” Mara stopped as she sensed a presence. Non-human. 

Pter stiffened beside her as the alien stepped out of the shadows. Two meters, lizard-like with scaly russet skin and wearing a simple gray tunic, the Trandoshan trained a blaster on them. 

Mara almost smiled. This made everything so much simpler. Maybe she didn’t need the clearing anyway.

The Trandoshan spoke to Mara in a half growl. “You’re too far to be past curfew.”

Right. The workers of Dancer’s Alley were kept under strict vigilance by hired thugs such as this. If rumors were correct, bonuses were given for bringing back any runaways -- whether they had come from Dancer’s Alley or not didn’t matter. Unsurprisingly, Twi’lek hated the Trandoshans only slightly less than the Wookies who Trandoshans had helped enslave for the Empire. 

“I’m not one of your sluts.” Conscious of Pter beside her, she added, “Do you know who I work for?”

The Trandoshan’s long tongue flickered out. “You work for Floating Flowers now--”

She missed the rest when she was flung back roughly. She hadn’t expected for Pter to pull her back, but just as well. She let herself fall with a loud shout.

“If she says she’s not one of yours, then keep walking,” Pter said without looking at her, his own blaster in hand and aimed squarely at the Trandoshan.

“There are rules here, human. You want one -- go to a House.”

Mara reached inside her skirt for her blaster. She could take out Pter and the Trandoshan with minimum fuss and have it all look like a mugging gone wrong. Just like last time. Even better.

“Yeah, in Dancer’s Alley, but we’re not there, are we?”

“I'm taking her back to where she belongs."

She carefully unholstered her holdout. "Like hell you will, you stangin' -- " 

“Shut up!” Pter snapped in her direction. 

Mara froze, waiting for the right moment. Just a little bit more. 

Pter had turned back to the Trandoshan. “I said no. You turn around and slither back from where you came.”

“If you’re that eager to die--”

“Kriff off.”

Mara’s hand tightened on her holdout...and she wanted to scream in frustration. 

Maybe two seconds later, Skywalker's form took shape from out of the shadows behind the Trandoshan, his own blaster aimed on him. Mara swallowed down the urge to slam her fist on the ground. 

“I think,” Skywalker said, as he stepped into the Trandoshan’s peripheral vision. “You should do as the man says.”

\--

A mortifying near half an hour had passed before Luke was able to extract himself from the Kala’unn. 

Mara had clearly known, he fumed as he took to the streets back to the spaceport. Why hadn’t she warned him about the cameras? Had it been to prod at him? Embarrass him? 

Whatever the reason, it’d been underhanded and petty. She should be past that. He’d wanted to see her again, sure, but not to be made a fool, not like this, not right now as some sort of deflection, as if they were strangers. It'd been easier to take when they were.

He was near the spaceport when he could _feel_ Mara, the area around her pulsating with murderous intent. 

On edge, he hurried to a darkened minor street, making out three figures in the misty gloom of a narrow minor street. A Trandoshan in front of him, blaster aimed at Rennek and Mara sprawled on the ground.

At least, it _felt_ like Mara. What it looked like was a female Twi’lek with skin so white it seemed to glow, decked in one of those scanty outfits -- a dancer’s skirt, slit high on both sides and a clingy top that had more in common with an undergarment than a shirt.

That punch of anger and frustration through the Force couldn’t be anyone but Mara though. 

Luke turned his attention away from this version of her and towards the Trandoshan pointing his blaster at Rennek.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Rennek asked the Trandoshan.

With a hiss the Trandoshan brought down his weapon and turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the alleys.

“Yeah, kriffin’ back to your nest!” Rennek called after him. “Stangin’ lizards.”

Luke holstered his blaster and walked towards Mara. What was she doing here with Rennek anyway? Weren’t they going to meet up by the ship? He was about twenty minutes early. Where'd she gotten a disguise from that fast?

“Stonn.” Rennek came up to him from the side and clapped him on the arm. “My hero.”

He ignored him as he went to Mara. That headdress must be clipped tight to have remained through her fall or the fall hadn't been that bad. Why was she still on the ground then?

As Luke walked towards her, more of her came into focus. The paint didn’t hide the same facial structure, the same eyes, the same nose, the same lips...which curved in a blatantly flirtatious, strangely un-Mara smile, stranger still because her Force sense radiated blistering fury, although he couldn’t figure out why. 

All of it stood in sharp contrast to the more sedate cover she’d had less than an hour earlier. Regardless of the facade of the baroness, Mara had been wholly herself, down to the pain that seeped from under her tight shields -- the remnant of the nightmare of two days ago.

This seemed to be altogether someone else, especially when she extended a taloned hand to grasp his offered one as she said, “And you are...?” all the while her anger continued to burn bright. It was extremely disconcerting, even more so than the previous times she’d playacted.

Rennek let out a dismayed groan beside him, coming over to yank his hand from hers before Luke could protest.

“Okay, okay we’re done here. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He turned to Mara and pushed her back slightly. “Go. Get out of here.”

She glared at Rennek as Luke stepped forward towards her, asking the pirate, “No, wait, what was that all about?” 

There was something else in Rennek’s sense as he rubbed the back of his neck. Luke felt his eyes narrow. The tech was hiding something. Did it have something to do with Mara?

“Shouldn’t you be checking on the ship, Stonn?”

“Shouldn’t you be grateful?” Mara snapped. “That karkin' lizard was a second from blasting your brains out.” 

“Kriffin’ worm--”

“In twenty minutes," Luke interrupted, if he never heard one more slur it would be too soon. 

Rennek flashed him a pointed look. “She’s a kriffin’ spice dealer.”

“What?” He looked over at Mara, lost. It didn’t help when she fished out a vial from her satchel. 

She lifted her chin. “Not spice. Ryll. The best outside of Ryloth.”

Luke stared at the vial, then at her, then at Rennek.

Mara smiled one of her lothcat smiles at Luke and slipped the vial back into her satchel. “You look like you could use a good time.”

Luke thought for a moment. She must have been on her way back to the ship. But why hadn’t she waited for him?

Rennek was groaning again. “Thought you weren’t a whore.”

“I’m not.” Her tone turned stab-sharp. “I _like_ him.” She turned to Luke and her tone slid into coy. “You -- _you_ can get a taste for free.”

“Speaking of gratitude,” Rennek muttered darkly, reaching for Luke’s arm to pull him away a few steps. “Forget her, she’ll probably hustle you anyway. Let’s go get a drink.”

“Stonn is it?” she called. “That’s a nice name.” 

Luke moved away, looking over to Mara. They had to get back to the ship so they could get the gems out. He still wanted to know why she jumped the blaster though -- had she been waiting at the bay and somehow been found? 

“Where’d you find her?”

“Crawling around the bay,” Rennek replied dismissively. That seemed to be it. If she'd somehow managed to get herself caught, no wonder she was in a black mood. All that rage still seemed excessive though. “Look, I know some places with some really hot --”

“You can go ahead.”

Rennek made a disgusted noise. “Ugh, you and your cheap pussy. I'll lend you some credits if you're that broke. She just wants to sell you ryll -- Stonn? Hey--”

Luke ground his jaw, but didn’t say anything as he walked back to Mara. She smiled up at him, close lipped and devious, and he didn’t care about Rennek at all.

He mentally shook himself. This was all fake. He knew it. He could feel it through the Force, Mara's attention was still on Rennek, feelings acutely hostile where they seeped out of her shields. 

Besides, the gems. They had to find the gems.

“What do you have in mind?” 

Mara bit her lip, lifting her hand to just under his jaw. He felt every graze of her fingers, the ghost of the talons, and it was all a sham. He _knew_ that. He felt it clear as day. 

Even so Luke risked bringing his hand over her wrist, running his thumb slowly over the underside of it...and felt her attention creep back to him. And was that stare, the hungry tinge of it, real? Trying to read her sense under all that animosity was like trying to separate water from alcohol. 

She was smiling. “I'll let you find out.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the docking bay?” Rennek called out.

“Twenty minutes. On my way,” he replied not taking his eyes off Mara nor drawing his hand from her wrist

He barely heard the pirate. “You can't. That’s not allow--”

Mara raised her head in Rennek’s direction. “Nothing wrong with having a good time, so long as you’re not double dipping, right?”

Rennek jumped forward, arms tensed at his sides, his sense full of anger and...fear? “Watch yourself--” 

“ _You_ watch yourself,” she snapped, and Luke lifted his forearm to push Rennek back.

“Go get that drink.” The words left Luke a bit sharply. The shove itself ended up harder than he intended, taking Rennek off guard as it sent him staggering back a few steps. 

Luke eased his tone into something resembling apologetic. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah.” Rennek glared at Mara, but he only shook his head at Luke. “Fine, it's your funeral if the boss finds out. He won't like whores in the shi--”

"I get it. I’ll see you later."

Mara had affixed herself to his arm, casting a smug at Rennek as they turned away.

“Twenty minutes,” Rennek grumbled, voice dying out as he walked off. "Cheap as kriff." 

“What happened?” Luke murmured once they were out of earshot, keeping his voice low. 

“A mistake,” Mara said tersely, her demeanor back to its usual tight clamp, all of that coyness gone, her voice just as hushed. “I was at the docking bay and ran into him. Gave him the story of ryll. I was hoping I could have him take it--”

“Take what?”

“The vial. It’s a sedative. Takes care of him while I get inside the ship.”

“You couldn’t have waited for me? As if things weren’t already tense enough -- and what was the point of _goading_ him?”

Mara scowled at him. “I didn’t ask you to come riding in.” Her sense at that was extremely angry, all of a sudden, way over what he’d felt from her initially. 

“I could have done it myself.” She shot back from between clenched teeth. “It was all going according to plan.”

“What plan? We _agreed_ to this,” he shot back, earlier anger close at hand, but he spared a look around for any nearby beings. Finding none, he went on, “ _I_ said we should come back here. You were the one to leave me without warning --” She’d set it all up, set _him_ up just to leave him behind -- 

“Was that a problem?”

“Yes! I can’t belie--” 

“I’ll be sure to warn you the next time someone comes to shoot all their gratitude and praise at you for being their hero, don’t worry.”

Was she serious? “They were thanking me for personally killing --” He broke off again, wary of anyone who could overhear.

“Yeah," Mara bit off without turning towards him. “Good job, hero.”

He wanted to yank her back, but settled on hissing, “There’s _nothing_ heroic about slaughter.”

She fixed him with a look weighed with derision, but didn't pause in her strides. “Did you tell that to them?”

The Kala'unn. “I could have. Killing might be necessary, but it’s not _right_.”

“Why didn't you? I'm sure they'd love to hear that.” She started walking faster. "Maybe you could have told them about how _he_ could change and how much you regret he's gone."

He hurried after her. “I don't.” 

"Then I don't see what your problem is."

"It's not something you _celebrate_."

“Spoken like an idealistic fool.”

“There’s worse things to be.”

He saw her flinch even as she continued walking, and that seemed even more alarming than her anger. Of all the places to have this discussion--

“I didn’t even do it.” He pursed his lips at the memory, the echo of Leia’s anguish. “My sister did -- with the same kriffing chain he put around her neck.”

“Oh, better.” She turned her head briefly towards him, eyes flinty and cold as she crossed the street. “So you’re _not_ responsible. I've heard that--”

His eyes widened in exasperation. Why was she so hardheaded? “No, that's not what I meant at--”

“What _the kriff_ does it even matter?" Mara lowered her voice even further. "He’s dead as he should be. Pity it didn’t happen sooner.”

Luke gritted his teeth. “Necessary and right are _not_ the same thing.” 

“In your world, maybe.”

“We don’t live in different worlds.”

Mara laughed gratingly, but something flagged in her sense. It brought him back to the uselessness of butting heads like this with her.

He lifted his chin, again reigning the impulse to grab her arm. “What’s going on?” 

She didn't answer. 

“This is not about old history. One minute you’re fine and the next you want to take my head off.”

When he put it to words like it that, it seemed obvious, as obvious as it’d been that morning, when she’d gone from that torrent of anguish right into sabotaging the ship, or when she’d put her the salve on after the vroskr attack in Myrkr with her own badly shaking hands. It was all the same thing.

She didn't look back at him this time. He barely heard her when she said, “I don’t want you all over my business.” 

“I’m not all over your business.” They were supposed to be over this. “ _Your_ job is done. The firegems are _my_ business. _I_ asked you here.”

Luke felt her anger swell anew at that and wanted to shake her. That was the truth, and he wasn’t happy her part of it ended in failure, but there was nothing _anyone_ could do about it. 

Worse, it wasn’t even about that. 

He drew calm into himself. “Everything we’ve done, everything, goes better when we’re working together. _Everything_. Which is why I asked for your help. If you could let go of your pride for two seconds you’d realize that too.”

Mara didn't answer and he frowned. It’d been a mistake to ask her to come. He’d just given her another way to pull into herself and run. Whether he was there or not it didn’t matter.

Both remained silent the rest of the way, the air distinctly unsettled, and unpleasant, but at least when they returned to the bay her sense no longer radiated animosity. It’d gone mute. 

Luke sent his senses out, there was no one on the ship. This would be their best opportunity yet. Mara went ahead as soon as he input the security code, rushing up the entryway into the ship, totally wrapped up in the objective as she jogged into the holds.

“We never got to to open the double doors to the compartment,” he told her turning on the primary storage area lights. “The airlock. We could try the front door now.”

She nodded. “I’ll go on ahead.”

Luke walked over to where the access panel was concealed behind the plastoid wall. He pushed the panel he cut carefully to the side. The trapdoor on the floor hissed open after he wrangled with the panel within.

He went to follow her. She had opened the access panel in front the hidden compartment by the time he had climbed down the ladder.

A few moments later one door hissed open and then the other. Mara looked up from the wiring and grabbed the glowrod she'd held between her teeth for illumination as she fiddled with the wires. She clipped it to the waistband of her skirt.

Luke walked past her into the compartment, already familiar with the room from when he’d seen it through Mara’s eyes. The pipe was there with the adhesive seal she’d put on it, but --

No firegems.

He felt Mara step into the room beside him. He knew she'd seen when she cursed colorfully enough to make him wince. In the next second, she was rushing out and climbing the ladder to the main level. 

“At least when they moved them--” he broke off when Mara moved away, digging through her bag. She pulled out a comm and quickly keyed in a code.

She hissed out several words in...Bocce? Or he thought it was, it sounded like it, but starkly different from the version the Twi’lek had used. There was a pause and Mara closed the line. 

“Stay here,” she ordered.

He felt his irritation at her rear up again. “What are you going to do?”

Mara paused and he let out a frustrated grunt, having had _enough_. “All this time and you still don’t trust me, what do you think--” 

“It’s not about --”

“What is it then?” he challenged. "All I’ve done is try to help.”

“I--”

“But you don’t need help. You never do, right, Mara? Not for yourself. And if that means you ending up cuffed up or hurt it means nothing to you. Nothing. Just the job, right? Like there’s nothing else. It’s not even--” he broke off. 

Useless. There was an impotent fury in it that nothing he was saying was getting through her, that nothing would. His jaw clenched at it. He should walk out and leave her to it. It was beyond him.

If that’s what she wanted, she could have it. 

\--

Skywalker's shoulders were drawn tight, expression of reproof in every inch of him, overlaying his sense as he turned away from her.

He'd leave any second, which should be fine. It was all she’d wanted. 

Mara knew what anger felt like, from herself from others. She’d felt Skywalker’s anger at the pirates sneak out of his shields more than once, but now there something else wrapped in his anger she had difficulty parsing. Disappointment, maybe? 

It didn’t matter. At the end of the day, Skywalker was an obstacle. 

She didn’t want him around at all, so much in fact, she'd ensured it. Tomorrow. Professionally. At her own expense. 

But someone else with her voice said, “Some aspects of the business are not mine to discuss. It has nothing to do with you, personally, Skywalker, it has everything to do about the nature of the operation we run.” 

At least the words felt safe, reasonable. If he left now, there might be room for suspicion later, she told herself. Salvaging this was only convenient. 

“Karrde trusts you, as I do, but it’s entirely a different thing for you to see what goes into what we do.”

Mara felt his anger ease up slightly and pressed further. “You’re a friend, but you don’t work for us and we don’t work for you and even if you have a request of us, as you’ve had, the means by which we accomplish our goals are our own prerogative.”

She felt Skywalker consider her words. 

“You’re right," she conceded. "The gems are your business, but that doesn’t change they’re a hazard. The quicker we find them, the quicker they won’t be.”

Skywalker wasn’t as angry, but there was a surge of annoyance at the last. He turned to her and his eyes still settled on her reproachfully. “It’s a facade, Mara.”

She cocked her head. “What?”

“Everything you’re saying.” His tone was resigned. “It’s all facade. I wasn’t talking about Karrde’s organization, I was talking about you. Stop hiding behind it. The organization, the job, it’s all the same thing, another cover.”

Her response fell away, leaving only the heavy knowledge that Skywalker had it all wrong. She wasn’t hiding behind it.

She wasn’t there.

There was just the job.

Mara inhaled. He’d been right in what he’d said to Pter, it’d been a long day. Frustrated tailing of the captain and his first mate, the failure with Pter. Tomorrow she’d have another opportunity. Things would feel better then. 

She shifted topics. She wasn’t going to conceal her next step anyway. “I put in a call for a rarl.”

Skywalker turned his head. “What’s a--”

Her comm sounded, she didn’t have to answer it. It sounded again and then went quiet.

“That must be it.” She sighed. “Look, if you leave the bay, someone might see you and wonder why you’re out, given that your shift is soon to start. It makes more sense for me to go ahead and come back. We’re going to need the ralr if we mean to find those gems. Also...if one of the crew returns while I’m doing the pick up, you can let me know. I wasn’t...trying to leave you behind or anything,” she finished. “Our covers just make more sense this way.” 

Mara could tell he was trying not to ask more.

“I’m going to meet my contact, stay here and I’ll be right back. All right?” She tilted her head to look at him.

“You don’t expect any trouble.”

She wanted to roll her eyes, but settled on shaking her head. “This is a normal transaction.” That was all she allowed herself to say. 

“All right.”

Mara darted out of the ship and into the spaceport’s access corridor. She ducked into a ‘fresher where fished a cloak from her bag and pulled it over herself, covering her fake lekku and the highly impractical outfit.

As she walked back into the access corridors, she bent her head, and her shoulder, trying to convey the impression of age. Soon she was outside the spaceport again. She pulled the hood further over herself and crossed the lanes, quickening her pace.

The thought of abandoning the venture altogether and tracking Pter down crossed her mind. Skywalker was not likely to move from where he was. There’d be no better occasion for it. At the same time, when else would it be possible to find and get rid of the firegems? She didn’t doubt that she could complete the job with the current situation as it was, but it made her margin of error much smaller than it needed to be.

Setting her mind to the exchange, she walked to the designated meet point and waited until a tall figure in a cloak emerged from the shadows. It didn’t take very long, certainly not at their prices.

The figure spoke in a rough dialect of Bocce that she’d picked up a few years ago in Varonat, words coming out as if through a modulator. They took every precaution. “Is this Devas forty five?” 

She approached. “It’s three lanes over,” she replied in the same language

The figure pulled out a box with a handle from its cloak. He set it on the ground and with a thin leg peeking from its voluminous cloak, slid it in her direction. 

The box was about half as long as her forearm maybe about a foot and a half wide, a bag stuck to its side. She’d be able to easily conceal it under her cloak. She opened the viewing flap on it. That looked like what she was paying for. 

“Half now.” She tossed a pouch of credits in the figures’ direction. “Half upon completion. We have your account.”

The figure nodded. “There is no need for the box after. The ralr will find its way. Happy hunting.” He melted back into the shadows. 

Mara looked at her chrono, concerned about the complications which had made of this a more time consuming than she’d anticipated. There was nothing to be done about that. She grasped the box by the handle and brought under her cloak. In that manner, she made her way back to the spaceport. 

Mara veered into a cantina this time, ambling right over to their ‘fresher, got rid of the cloak. She wrapped it around the box to obscure it from view and came back out. She ignored the leers in her direction as she retraced her steps back to the docking bay. From Skywalker’s sense, the situation seemed unchanged, the pirates off wasting credits somewhere.

Skywalker was still annoyed, that was apparent. She should let it be. Obviously, he’d needed to curb his expectations from the start. It’d been at the tip of her tongue to remind him that while _his_ job was close to done, hers was dead in the water. To broach that was too risky, too obvious a lie from her lips.

She just needed a bit more restraint, just a tad more patience, and all this would be done. 

Skywalker was waiting for her by the entrance of the holds. He didn’t say anything when she pulled the cloak off to reveal the box in her hands, but she felt more than a dash of curiosity.

“We need to go back to the concealed room.”

He nodded and went to the access panel. She took the box with her as she went down the ladder. Skywalker was back behind her as she worked with the access panel by the inner doors of the compartment. Once it was open, she walked in and crouched to put the box down.

“This is a ralr,” she said as she opened the box. 

The creature lifted its long, thin snout and sniffed.

Mara smiled and reached for the bag of treats. “It’s a very useful rodent.”


	14. Surveyor’s Chain

_Beyond all reason_  
_Beyond all my hopes_  
_The call of duty_  
_Another war zone (Make me moan moan)_  
_Kamikaze, kamikaze_  
_Never touch me_ [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAj3OD7Lyi4&list=PLAD16260502A6E6C0&index=9)]  


  


It was a very ugly rodent.

Tiny tusks protruded from its snout and its ears fanned out of its head. Luke skittered away the second it wriggled out of the box. His skin crawled, a kind of weird deja vu mixed in with the revulsion.

Mara laughed softly. “I thought you were raised at a farm.”

“We didn’t have those.” The feeling of disgust fell into place. “It looks like a tiny womp rat.”

She graced him with a quizzical look, hand digging through the small packet she’d pulled from the side of the box. “A womp rat?”

“Nearly two meters. Travels in packs. Disease-ridden. Mean.”

Mara shook her head. She was still crouching in front of the creature which had turned to her and sat back on its haunches, beady eyes on the treat in her hands, and was she going to actually _touch_ it?

“A ralr is not that. They’re trained detection animals.” 

“What--”

Mara said a few words in the same language as before. The ralr rubbed at its snout with its front paws. Mara stood, gesturing, and it scurried to the far end of the room, sniffing. 

“It’s going to sniff out the gems?”

Mara nodded. “It needs to familiarize itself with the smell of the gems and then it’ll be ready to go.”

“You bought this?”

She looked at him a moment and he was reminded what she’d said.

_It’s entirely a different thing for you to see what goes into what we do._

“More like rented it. The ralr will return to its handler once it’s job is done.”

Luke stared as the rodent made its way around the room still sniffing. A large one needed to be put down expediently, a small one like this was just gross; it was a cleanliness thing. “How will it know its job is done?”

“I’ll let it know.”

They stood in silence waiting for it. After a few minutes, the ralr returned to Mara and sat back on its hind legs again, looking up at her. Luke couldn’t help stepping away as it neared. One of Mara’s eyebrows went up, but she didn’t say anything as she crouched down and gave the creature its treat. He couldn’t help making a face as she did.

“All right, I think it’s done getting the scent. Let’s take it up. If it’s anywhere nearby it’ll find it.” She called out a couple of commands and the ralr went back into the box. Mara slipped in a treat, closed it up, and they went back down the corridor. He stopped to close the access doors to the compartment as Mara began her climb up the ladder one-handed.

They’d gotten to the main floor of the holds and Luke went to the panel to close the trapdoor. Once there Mara put the box on the floor in a corner between some crates and opened it, calling out the same commands she did the first time. 

The ralr scampered off across the crates in the primary section of hold, and she straightened up, her face half in dark from the shadows cast by the glowrod she’d strapped to her waist. Along with the lekku, and that excessively white cast to her skin, he once again got the impression she was someone else entirely. 

Just like the last time, his mind automatically went back to a few hours before -- that brittle look in her eyes, the angle of her back as she bent forward, and the outpour of despair.

And then she’d, simply leaned back and made him look like a fool. He felt a flicker of annoyance rekindle at the memory. There was no reason for it. Not for that nor for that argument earlier. 

_I’m not asking for understanding or sympathy._

Luke stared at the set of her shoulders as they moved deeper, past the conveyor area that made up the second section towards the _Jackal's_ small docking bay through an open bath that bisected the conveyor area. 

Except, she’d actually been explaining something back then. As much as she’d misguidedly hated him, that had, at least, made sense. Her disposition over the last week had been as stable as windshear, even before Galen. He’d thought it was him, _them_ \-- he’d crossed some line somehow, somewhere but now he wasn’t so sure. It seemed like a world of other things had come into play.

Or had been in play all the while? He had no idea.

“What will you do when you get back?” Luke asked quietly

“Mm?” Her head turned towards where the ralr had gone.

“The Smuggler's Alliance,” he added quickly, almost kicking himself. The last thing he needed to do right now was have her think he was pushing training...even though realistically, that seemed like the only thing that had gotten any response, but maybe... “How is it going?”

She gave a soft laugh, giving him a sidelong glance. “Need to ship something, Skywalker?”

He shook his head. 

There was a brief flicker of suspicion in her, reflexive he thought -- hoped? before it disappeared. 

Mara shrugged. “Still early yet. I’ve done some basic information gathering -- who is where, doing what, and so on. Smugglers never want to give any information, so it’s been uphill, even with Karrde’s contacts.”

“Han and Leia said a couple of systems were making a fuss.”

“Oh, the Kuat Drive Yards issue? They bumped themselves to the front of the line, I don't know how. Needed someone who would run through the borderlands to get material to Orinda, but the price they named was too low.” She scoffed a little. “I’m sure they were told that smugglers don’t work for them, but that’s the government for you.”

“Did they come through?”

“The smugglers or KDY?”

“Either.”

“I had to get the Trade Bureau involved. KDY’s reps didn’t believe me when I told them their offer was too low. They accused me of favoring outlaw elements. I accused them of being cheap -- Trade Bureau helped me show them by how much. Risk isn’t cheap.”

The ralr scurried back stopping by Mara’s feet, once again raising itself on its two hind legs. It squeaked twice and took off in front of them, stopping halfway. Mara gave it another treat -- threw it this time, Luke noted with some relief. The rarl caught it easily, dashed forward a few feet, and looked back after, clearly indicating they should follow.

“Did KDY cooperate then?”

She walked towards it. “Too little too late. The original contact had fallen through. Smugglers don’t like waiting around -- either you’re in or out, too much business to do to be hesitating. Connection to Karrde or not, it’s just how things go.” Her tone was casual but he sensed something else just at the horizon of her shields. 

“Everyone is still calibrating their expectations,” Luke offered after a moment. “I suppose.”

“Yeah.” Her gaze had grown distant and he could feel her attention elsewhere. “Kuat isn’t even part of the council, so all of KDY’s blustering about my credibility is a bit much. Serves them right for twisting someone’s arm to cut in line.”

She lowered her voice, muttering to herself, “They couldn’t have taken the blasted things far, especially if they noticed the box was cracked.”

“Credibility? That’s what they brought up?” 

She nodded. 

“KDY? With the amount of Imperial partisans they still have working for them? Didn’t they let their entire senior design team vanish rather than risk giving the secrets to us? Seems like they don’t have a leg to stand on about outlaw elements.”

Her head turned slowly in his direction. “Sure,” she said evenly. “But they were referring to my position within Karrde’s organization, not anything else.”

Luke felt color rush up his face, aware suddenly of what could be construed from his statement. He dashed on, “Well, in any other trade deal your link to Karrde is an asset. That’s why we thought you could move between the formal and informal channels. I told you -- with both sides knowing you, it generates trust between everyone.”

“I’m not sure if it’s not the opposite, actually. But it ends the functionally same.” She flashed him a lopsided smile and there it was, that flicker of _something_ too quick to parse in her sense, and it was gone.

The ralr stopped again, waiting for them. Mara threw it another treat as they neared. They were at the stairs that lead down the docking bay which held the two Headhunters. 

The ralr started off again. 

Mara mused, “It makes sense that they’d move the gems if they’re expecting to fill the holds, but the space in the compartment is too small. Not for the kind of quantities the Hutts deal for. Maybe around forty fit, if you're pushing it. Hutts deal with hundreds and up.”

Just twenty seemed cramped. Forty was the stuff of Holonews horrors. 

“What if they mean to sell the gems to the Hutts? Sell that to them keep their slaves to sell for themselves? Without a Hutt taking a cut.”

Mara was quiet as she mulled it over. “They have nothing if they turn it over.” She shook her head. “Desperate as they are, you don’t last a second without leverage. Protection. No, they’re keeping the gems. There’s someone else that they’re dealing with to provide a shipful of slaves, possibly several.” She clicked her tongue in irritation. “My file on them must not have been complete. They have allies somewhere else that they’re joining up with.”

“That information could be in the datacards you gave me.”

“I’m sure of it.” Her mouth formed a line. “But we can't go through them now.”

Luke nodded. “NRI and NR sec will take care of it. I sent the information to them.” 

It sat uncomfortably; she’d just mentioned the first deal she’d tried to broker through the Smuggler’s Alliance going through, just as this was going through. Was that it?

The ralr had reached one of the Headhunters and squeaked again.

“Not too far," Mara grunted. "The Headhunter though?" 

“Cargo hold for one of those isn’t that big,” Luke puzzled out as Mara threw the rarl another treat. “It’s the same size as an X-wing. Customs inspectors wouldn’t be likely to miss something that big there... unless they put a secret compartment of some sort.” Headhunters were even more stripped down than X-wings though, clearing up that much space meant doing without something else.

Mara pursed her lips. “Maybe that’s it.”

The ralr had climbed up and disappeared from view. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like the access panel that opens the compartment. It _looks_ like a Headhunter, but maybe...that’s just a cover. Can you get the canopy?” She went for the access ladder, pulling it up the Headhunter and climbed up. He followed behind her, triggering the cockpit canopy mechanism through the Force. The canopy went up, but instead of climbing into it she went on the nose. Luke stayed on the ladder, spying the ralr make its way in and trying not to shudder at the thought of being caught in the cramped space of a cockpit with it.

“Just too much trouble,” she muttered. “To get the box in the nose where the sensor arrays would be.”

“The back,” Luke blurted out suddenly in a flash of inspiration. “Where the hyperdrive is. Keep the motivator, take out the generator. Hyperdrives already give out funny readings. Nothing would stand out even if a customs inspector checked it thoroughly. He’d have to get inside the ship.”

Her head snapped in his direction. The rarl started squeaking again without giving a sign of stopping. It was at the tail of the Headhunter.

Mara nodded and called out a few commands. The ralr quieted but stayed where it was, again sitting back on its hind legs. Mara threw it a couple of treats.

“Ironic. The firegems near a operating hyperdrive are a guarantee for a detonation. I don’t want to give them that much credit though.”

“I wouldn’t.” Luke said from his spot. “I can’t imagine how they got them in there. The box was several times larger than a hyperdrive module. They must have cleared a whole cavity for them inside the Headhunter.”

He climbed up and back to the tail of the ship, hearing Mara call out some commands. The ralr scurried past him towards her. 

He still made sure to stay as far away from it as he could.

\--

By the time Mara had sent the ralr on its way, Skywalker had gotten the access panel open and was trying to get the hyperdrive motivator’s shield casing off. 

“They kept the surface level components,” he said without looking up. “After we clear it we could see if we can move the gems like last time from here down, hide them somewhere and get them off the ship, but it's already late..."

“They must have changed the gems’ casing,” Mara thought out loud, unscrewing the motivator’s casing from the bottom part closest to the tail. “The firegems -- since the casing last time was broken.”

“Thought it was the pipe probably. Otherwise they’d be even more paranoid. And after Galen...” Skywalker’s voice trailed off, his sense turning somber. The casing came off and they both started digging through the snarl of connector relays.

“Well, you don't know how paranoid they are. You didn't see them move it." She didn’t want him pondering Sauminn’s murder for too long, she didn’t like thinking about it much herself. "NR sec can handle the mess between them too.” She hit something metallic. “Shavit. They put even more components over it. Unless this is the gem's new casing.”

“It’s not,” Skywalker peered down. “I see some basic clips. Your multitool?”

Mara fished it out and handed it to him.

“They’re small,” Mara was already getting her glowrod up. “Can you --yeah.” She thought Skywalker would leave the issue with the pirates at that, but he went on, “Galen thought one of them took the death mark to save himself.”

Mara shrugged. “Could be.”

“Whoever it is, they framed Galen.” Skywalker removed the panel setting it behind him. 

Mara shifted closer for a look and saw nothing but more hyperdrive parts and connectors. “They really buried it in there.” 

They both continued digging through the parts, Mara’s back knotting up. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Skywalker could use the Force in some manner, but they had no sense of how the pirates rigged the gems.

“I can’t figure out why Galen was framed.” Skywalker went back to his previous topic as they dug around another snarl of connectors. “They returned the credits and identifications. I know Mahas had it out for him and me, but he’s not the type.”

Mara stayed silent. Her shielding was solid, her cover was airtight. She just needed to play this as smoothly as possible. “Let’s try opening up behind the hyperdrive module, past the generator. We're going to have to do it anyway once we get to the gems.” 

He nodded, scooting back to get at it. “Mahas tried to attack me too while all the...all the craziness was going on. He wouldn’t sneak around.” 

Her head lifted at that. This shouldn’t surprise her given what she’d overheard from the captain and his first mate; the training bond between them had been too unsettled for her to get more than his spike of anxiety throughout the event...and a front row seat to what Sauminn’s death felt like through the Force.

“He attacked you?” she repeated, insides wrenching.

The access panel popped open and Skywalker put the multitool aside and started pulling off some more wiring. “Yeah, came at me with the grip of his blaster just as Strilath,” the pause was smaller this time, “lost it.” He looked back at her and she carefully dialed her unease back, knowing he was sensing all of it. 

Mara kept her face blank. 

He dropped his gaze back to the opened access panel. “We might need some fusion cutters around here, from what I remember the box is bigger than this.”

“We might be cutting it close at best.” Mara breathed out through her nose and rubbed her forehead, but went to her satchel again. She looked at her fusion cutters disgustedly. “And my ‘cutters aren’t big enough for something like this.” 

“I could go back to the holds and get a larger one.”

“We’d only lose more time. The gems are _right here_.” Her fingers flexed. How could she be so close and have everything peter out right in her hands? Again. This job was supposed to be _easy_. “If we could just move them out...”

“We’d need a story and the crew won’t let the Headhunter be moved out without them supervising.”

“Do they know about the gems?”

Skywalker shook his head. “I know Galen didn’t. I don’t know who does.”

Mara sighed loudly. Same damn problem. Too many variables. _That's_ what she should be thinking about.

Instead, she said, “So Parsto shot Sauminn.” 

“No. We were doing some repairs by the turbolifts. Strilath pushed him down.”

Rather barbaric. “For stealing the credits and IDs?”

Skywalker nodded. “And some fancy blade from the captain.”

“Really?” She should have never continued this conversation and switched the subject, looking back down at the Headhunter’s insides. “I don’t know if we can do any more. It’ll take too long to get them out.”

“You never got to his cabin, did you?”

“What?

"The captain's cabin." 

"I couldn’t beat his security system, no.” Mara lifted her head, scanning for the access panel. “Let’s put everything back in.”

“Well, someone did.” Skywalker started putting components back. “They took the captain’s blade and they planted it on Galen.”

“You’re sure he didn’t do it?.”

“Positive.”

Mara didn’t reply. Concern washed out from Skywalker. “I didn’t mean to remind you...” He sighed and stopped the work. “I’ve been trying to leave you to it.”

She kept on, shoving in the stabilizer, the energy output reader, the fuel injector. Before he could say anything else, she replied, “I don’t have time to dwell in...whatever. There’s things to do.”

“Will it be like this in Coruscant?”

The day had been too long because words turned to ash in her mouth. It was one thing to obfuscate. It was another to outright lie.

Skywalker spoke slowly, methodically much like he was slipping all the parts back in. “That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s not about Meyna or their slaving, is it? Take a job, a _risky_ job and then you can avoid thinking about everything, drown it out instead with the other _important_ things.”

As expected as a kick to the stomach. A punch to the back of the head.

“You can’t keep pushing it aside, Mara.”

She leaned back, snaking a look out for any parts she might have overlooked. None. She was done. “ _I’m_ not here because I’m bored.”

“No, you’re not,” he said softly. “You’re here because you’re hurting.”

Mara didn’t answer, just gave one last scan. It wouldn’t do for the pirates to suspect what they’d been up to. “That’s it then,” she said under her breath.

What a terrible idea. She hadn’t thought it through. Got too impatient. It’d been too long since she’d done something like this. She needed to go back to her hotel room and reevaluate.

“It’s me, isn’t it? Knowing what I know about you...but Mara, I wouldn’t...use it against you.”

Reassess. Go over her mistakes. What else did she have to do tonight anyway? She hadn’t been able to sleep all that well for several days; tonight wouldn't be any different. 

“Or it’s us maybe.”

She got to her feet, eyes on the ladder.

“Mara, if that’s what you’re...cautious about...we’ll...set it aside. Mara? Mara, this is important.”

Mara turned back, and dropped down in a crouch beside him, facing away, eyes still on the ladder.

She spoke in a hurried whisper, “You’re telling me a sugar story, but we both know it’s not just learning skills. You want Jedi. You need them. So much in fact that you’re here trying to convince _me_ of all people to train. You think at some point down the line, I’ll discover my calling and then that’s it, you’re on your way to living up to the galaxy’s expectations of you.” 

She couldn't see his face, but she felt her words reverberate like the clang of a wrench on a metal barrel. She only allowed herself a second, before continuing, “ _You_ believe you want the best for me, but you want it so that I can be whatever ideal you have in your head. So you can _make_ me that. And maybe that seems better than starting from zero. Or having no one to join you on your crusades.” She paused for breath there. “But there's worse things than being alone, take it from me.” She stood up again, his dismay gave her enough time to get to the ladder.

“You're wrong,” he called after her in a tight voice as she put a foot on one rung. 

She didn't answer.

"Does spinning things the ugliest way possible help?"

“I’m not _spinning_ anything.” She lowered herself to the next rung and the next. “This is how things _are_.”

“If you'd like to believe nothing you do matters.”

“Philosophical arguments are your area, Skywalker, not mine.”

He stood and she heard his footsteps approach the ladder. “You wouldn’t be doing all this if --” he broke off and started again, "Was I wrong to think that there was a moment where you thought this could work? After Galen. Before -- when we first talked about your abilities. You were open to it then. I felt it. I don't know what changed.”

All the words left her. Her hands at the sides of the ladder had gone cold and clammy. 

“I want to go back to that.”

Mara brought her other foot down to the rung. There he was with all that earnestness, as if he didn’t know better though he _had_ to. 

He _had_ to.

After all the risk she’d put him under. He didn’t even _suspect_.

She continued making her way down. You couldn’t turn back time. No one could. You had to make do with what you had.

"Mara." She craned her neck up, stupidly. He was looking at her with an openly beseeching expression. “I...I shouldn’t push you. But this isn’t about what I want. You're wrong.”

He was just that naive. For a moment as he looked at her, an appeal in his eyes, she thought she could see it there, some glimmer of something different, something new.

She was taken back to the sunset above the Imperial Palace rooftop, the feeling of his old lightsaber in her hand, a link to a future.

_Because you’re on your way to becoming a Jedi..._

The tightness in her throat went down to her chest and she looked down at her hands at the sides of the ladder. She was on the deck now and let go, moving away from the Headhunter.

_A crystal only seen once --_

In her mind’s eye, she could see herself hurling the lightsaber over the side of the roof, wishing she could see it hit the ground and _break_. Links and chains were the same thing.

She'd been promised a future before.

She and Skywalker were nothing alike.

A blinding flare of emotion came from Skywalker, fiercer than anything she’d ever felt from him. It was for just a second, by the time she looked up it was gone.

He'd lifted his head, and stared past the maze of the crates beyond the _Jackal's_ docking bay. “We have company.” 

\--

Frustration gnawed at him as he dropped himself off the side of the Headhunter using the Force to cushion his jump. Mara was moving the access ladder back to its previous spot, and it all whirled in his head, the unsolved murders, the gems, Mara.

She’d been at some tipping point, and it’d been...bad.

He had no time now to bring her back from it. Not with this to contend with.

They scampered towards the exit, taking the stairs out of the docking bay and into the second area of the holds, but by then Luke sensed the pirates heading towards them and both sped up through the central path.

He felt a wave of anxiety from Mara that she smoothed out.

“Might be coming to check on the cargo,” she murmured.

Several pirates by the feel of it. Difficulty avoiding them depended on how they moved through the cargo holds. They had just reached the main storage section.

“Stonn?” they called from the end of it.

“You think he’s here?” Sounded like Strilath. Stretching further through the Force, Luke could pick out Strilath, Enif, and Dreiz. 

“Not in his cabin,” Enif said. “Or the galley. I guess he coulda left the ship. Rennek said he was with some tailhead floozy. Maybe she took him to her lair.”

“The boss ain’t gonna like that,” Strilath continued. “Leaving ship during watch like that for pussy.”

“Yeah, well he seemed broken up about Galen...”

“Gonna be more broken up if the boss boots him," Dreiz spoke up next. "Dunn said he was worried bout that.” 

“Yeah.” That was Dunn’s voice. “That Mahas might convince the boss.”

“Who the kriff listens to Mahas anyway?” Strilath groused.

Dunn chuckled. “I think Stonn made him lose two teeth with his own blaster. Made my morning.”

He felt Mara look over in his direction, but he was too busy trying to call where the pirates were heading. Unlike last time, he and Mara hadn’t arranged the crates to get in through the vents at the primary section. Doing so now would only attract attention. Vent crawling was out. 

The layout of the primary storage area was another complication. The ship had picked up supplies over the last few days and Luke, having done shifts all over the ship, was unfamiliar with the ever shifting mazelike paths created by moving and arranging the cargo. This was the reason why, in making a turn along a narrow aisle lined by crates, he and Mara found themselves in a path completely blocked by crates that stretched up a good three meters. They turned, meaning to go back out from where they came but the presences approached in just that direction.

They stopped. Trapped.

There should be no reason for the pirates to check here, Luke told himself. He’d just have to wait them out and make sure Mara got off the ship. Once that was done he could make up some story about not having heard them calling. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt them keep going ahead, further into the holds. They must be doing the evening check in. Too late, but not that out of the ordinary given what he'd witnessed over the last few days.

Luke was about to relax when his alarm sense tingled.

He looked over at Mara and her own rigid posture told him she’d felt it too.

One of the pirates was near. He reached out.

Dunn. 

Okay. That should be fine. Luke scanned around them, if they could open one of the crates for Mara to hide -- there was one off to the side... 

Mara had the same idea and quickly tried to work the latches. Suddenly she stopped and whirled. Dunn was almost there and they both sensed he’d take the path that would lead him to their dead end.

Luke felt her start to pull up the training bond and his eyes widened.

She was jumping up to sit on the crate and pulled him forward by the sleeve. “Hurry. You’re not going to like this,” she whispered.

On edge enough from her warning, Luke concentrated to get the bond in place. It was only marginally better than last time they were in similar circumstances, still a clumsy, spotty connection for being done so quickly with his attention half elsewhere. He moved on to try to get what he could of the kinks out just as her left hand grasped the neck of his flightsuit.

“Hand around my wrist,” she dictated low, offering her free hand. He was focusing on getting the double vision under control, and followed, dimly aware she was leading him to clasp her wrist behind her back. The double vision receded as the bond settled. Mara yanked him forward between her knees, closing their already shortened distance, partly obscuring her, just as Luke sensed Dunn behind him.

Dunn’s footsteps stilled and he let out a short, incredulous laugh. 

He wasn’t suspicious right now, as far as Luke could make out, just surprised at finding him.

Them. Mara sent him the cringeworthy image, so he was aware of precisely the kind of subterfuge she was going for. She’d hiked up her skirt over her spread knees, and the angle at which he had his arm across her back meant that she was pressed up against him. Her other hand, out of Dunn’s line of vision, was clutching the neck of his flightsuit between them.

“Stonn?”

The next sequences bloomed into his mind’s eye. Mara giving a soft cry, attempting to slide off the crate, his hand at her waist, pushing her back.

They snapped into tightly choreographed action, she shifted to the side, he shoved her back with a hand at her waist. She pulled harder and they were cheek to cheek, close enough that he felt her muscles lock in high tension. Her breathing by his ear was steady though.

“Do you mind?” Luke snapped to Dunn, and the aggravation that inflected it was very real. “I’m busy here.” Mara was right, he hated all of it. All of it. Every. Single. Bit.

“You’re going to have to take her back.” 

“When I’m done with her,” Mara whispered.

There, Luke couldn’t control the wince, but she surreptitiously dug her thumb into the web between the own thumb and forefinger of the hand he had clutching her wrist behind her back.

He tamped down on a hiss, sending some irritation through the bond. Did she have to act like an exacting taskmaster about _everything_ in these situations? 

“When I’m done with her,” he snapped.

“Why here?” Dunn observed.

Her hand on his flightsuit collar tightened further. He didn’t think about it too much, just brought the hand at her waist to just under her chin to tip her face up and lowered his head, covering her lips with his.

It wasn’t much of a kiss. He was too focused on Dunn’s mental state for one, and for another, it was part of the sequence of events Mara was feeding him with all the emotional baseline of rewiring an actuator. He knew that she’d break off almost automatically with something resembling a whimper (that could have been more hiccupy, but that’s what she managed).

Her fake lekku brushed disconcertingly against the arm he had holding hers behind her. She also smelled like paint.

Through the bond, she was pushing him to act distracted. Without emphasis this time, at least.

"What?" he called out to Dunn.

“You couldn’t have gone to one of the Houses? It’s not a good idea to grab one from off the street.”

Once more, she made as if to push off and he yanked her back on the crate, and slid a hand under her chin to pull her into another kiss for good measure -- the sort of ad-lib that felt would get Dunn to stop thinking about them being in the holds. The weird thing was that with that one he got a flicker from her and then it was gone, like shutting down a glowrod. No time to reflect on that. Dunn was still there, and he somehow needed to figure out how they were getting out of this without Mara thrown in front of the pirates again.

“This isn't a show--”

“Should have taken her back to your cabin then. The boss is not going to like it. It’s not hygienic.”

“Good thing he’s not here. Some privacy?”

“I just want to see her.”

Luke didn’t think Dunn would recognize Mara in her disguise, but he intuited some tacit principle being invoked, _yours is ours_.

He wasn't going to play into that again.

For her part, Mara was going through scenarios at a feverish pace. Her mind sorted through the situation coolly, adjusting for what was possible or not in a tidy, systematic way. Any other time, it would be fascinating to watch her work, except that most of the cataloging and options she was playing out in her head boiled down to _not going to work_. 

She kept coming back to one thought: Dunn was far enough from the rest of the others that she could get off a shot without excess sound thanks to her suppressor, a thought to which Luke sent off a strident _no_. 

“C’mon, Stonn. Stop being so uptight.”

“Get lost,” Luke grated out.

It hadn’t crossed to that point, he sent off to Mara. He could defuse the situation. Plus, taking out one of the pirates out would compromise them both. He wasn't familiar with a suppressor anyway and had his doubts about how far the sound would carry.

“When the others find out they’re going to want to see her anyway.”

But Mara was sure his cover could remain intact. In fact, hers would too, to a certain extent. The rest of the pirates were far enough away; the sound shouldn't be a problem. And even if they were, they had a running start and were close to the exit.

He thought, _trust me_.

A kind of ripple went through the bond, the only warning. Luke acted immediately, already aware of how fast she could be. His free hand reached the blaster under her skirt maybe a half second before she did.

She let out a grunt.

“Kriff,” Dunn blurted out.

In the back of his mind, Luke thought he’d feel sick later about what it looked like with Mara struggling, but for now he clamped his hand over the back of the blaster holstered at Mara’s thigh, preventing her from drawing it. Her fury at being foiled rose sharply in the bond, her hand attempting to pry his off to get to the weapon. 

She shifted suddenly, unwittingly projecting every move through the bond as if screaming them out loud and in the space of a minute, he avoided getting his nose broken when she slammed her head forward, escaped having her get a finger lock on his hand at the holster, and managed to keep his grip on the weapon, half shocked throughout that he'd asked her to trust him, and she'd just tossed it into the wind like it hardly mattered.

Luke gave the holster a hard yank, thinking that if he got the holster loose and far from her grip she’d be dissuaded, but it wouldn’t budge. The motion made him almost miss that she was pushing herself back on the crates and if she got distance and her legs in play, the whole situation would become even more volatile. He pulled tighter at the arm at her back, as she'd set up the beginning except with some weight behind it, enough to make it difficult for her to break his hold in her current position. 

He met Mara’s eyes attempting to convey that bloodshed right now was _unnecessary_ , pouring calm through the bond as she breathed heavily.

“Sith, you couldn’t wait? She got you _that_ worked up?”

“Out,” Luke didn’t take his eyes of Mara. As far as he could tell, that calm was just barely scraping the edge off as she kept on her struggling. “And keep it to yourself.”

Mara whimpered, “Let me go, please,” low, but enough so it could carry to Dunn, and Luke _knew_ she was doing it to get him off balance, caught himself almost pulling away all the same. He shot her a disbelieving look. Why was she doing this? 

“Please.”

Dunn laughed again, the sound scraping against his nerves. “You like the shy ones, huh? Spaceport mice, right.”

Luke gritted his teeth against the wave of revulsion. He'd have no compunctions in Force flinging Dunn into a crate right now -- had he known Mara was _this_ insensible he would have done so from the beginning and figured out the rest later -- but he didn't dare take his focus off Mara now for fear she might send the situation into total meltdown. 

"Let me go. Please," she moaned softly.

He'd love to do that. In fact, he'd love to be as far away from Mara as possible and sent as much through the bond. The asteroid over sounded like a good choice. But she was still trying to force off his hold on the holster. 

“I’m...serious, Dunn.” 

“How serious? Credits serious?”

Mara tried again, but he just tightened his grasp on her arm at her back, crowding her a bit more. Her fury boiled through the Force until, with the light of an epiphany, she yanked on the bond to tear it off, pain bursting behind his right eye. 

Of course she would. Of course she’d struggle harder then hoping the distraction would help her get at the holdout.

Luke still didn’t let go.

“Whatever," he bit off. "Go.”

“Seventy.”

At that, he felt Mara begin to calm down. Fractionally. He still kept his hand over the blaster just in case.

“Fine,” Luke growled.

Dunn snarfed a laugh. "That's real desperate all right. Nah, man, I'm just kriffin' with you. Enjoy."

Mara squirmed half heartedly.

Luke flashed Mara an angry look. Enough was enough.

“You tell anyone that asks that I was _working_ ,” he told Dunn sharply.

“Sure thing. Can I get a peek though?"

His patience dangerously close to fraying, Luke said very slowly, "You're looking for more serious than credits, Dunn. You don't want to find it."

"Okay, okay. I'm going." 

Mara shifted again, but the situation was now resolved, Luke released her. She brought her hands to cover her face, bent her head down, gasping, and shook her shoulders lightly as if crying silently. As far as making him feel awful, it would have been even more successful if Mara’s intent to make him feel that way wasn’t blaring through the Force with all the subtlety of a mallet. She wasn’t just angry, she was _livid_.

"Damn cranky for someone about to get laid," his mutter came back to them as he turned.

Luke held his breath while Dunn went to join the others. Once he was gone, he darted away from Mara, as she took off in quick strides outside the holds to the aft, completely silent. Rage ticked up steadily in her until she reached the opening and she whirled, opening her mouth.

He preempted her. “Get out.” 

Her face twisted. “What?”

“Your job is done.” 

She was trembling with barely contained fury, but said nothing as she turned around.

It was beyond him, he thought, watching her walk down the gangway. It’d been utter foolishness to try. He’d pinned all his hopes in thinking that he could reach her somehow and she...she’d been trying her hardest to alienate him. 

She'd succeeded.

Mara drew out her cloak from her satchel, wrapping it around herself. She turned and for a second he’d wondered if there might be something that gave. But the lights of the bay did nothing to hide the shadows in her eyes, the green of them turbid like undergrowth, harder than stone.

He braced himself for a cruel remark, something worse than what she'd said at the Headhunter. That had been wrong, even if it had stung enough to blindside him, but it hadn't been out of spite. But now he had no reason to expect anything that _wasn't_ viciously vindictive. She'd given him no reason.

But all she said was, “You don’t belong here,” and pulled up the hood, turning to exit the docking bay.

Luke stayed at the gangway staring after her for a long moment, trying to work through the tangle of all he felt, anger to be sure, a saddening letdown, and under it, loss. Had it all begun the moment she’d handed him those datacards? 

Had it been when he’d witnessed all the carefully built walls around her had crumbled? Or had it been even before then when he’d gone into her mind to wake her up? 

He had no way of knowing exactly _when_ , just that it hadn’t always been that way. 

_Why_ had she met up with him again?

And Luke found himself dashing forward from the ship towards the docking bay’s exit and further yet out of the spaceport on a hunch, his heart hammering against his ribs. He could feel a shift in the wind, as if he were at a cusp of something else. The feeling only got stronger the closer he got to the outside until he burst out into the night of the depot, punctuated by the glare of speeder lights in the fog. 

Not a whisper of her sense remained.

Luke closed his eyes. The feeling of defeat that flooded him felt a lot like heartache. 

He turned and went back towards the ship.


	15. Parallax Problem

__  
__  
_Melt my happiness, some kind of fucked up mess_  
_Looking out for you is a kind of waiting game that leaves me running circles into my brain_  
_Help, my loneliness will take no part in this_  
_Oh-oh-overdose_ [[x](https://youtu.be/k7LNBLDqngI)]  


  


  


In a nearby cantina, Ovarung Denk, captain of the _Jackal_ and his liutenant, Bareth Selmur, were meeting with three prospective crewmembers, all tall and muscled Zygerrians, their feline faces covered with pale fur. 

The Zygerrians sat across from the pirates, seemingly unaware of Strilath Parsto, taking point a booth away, not to mention a lone Kubaz in dark gray clothing, hood pulled up and eyes hidden behind dark goggles over a long dark snout. Parsto himself hadn’t noticed anything amiss when the Kubaz had just taken the booth behind the captain and his candidates. The midday cantina was hardly crowded. The Kubaz could have taken any other number of free booths. Under the mask, Mara's lip curled at the pirates' customary lack of imagination.

Her datapad blinked beside her, informing of an incoming message. She knew the encryption and it didn’t require a response. Her stomach clenched, but she forced the feeling aside. It’d been coming and going since last night, keeping her up and pacing. The little sleep she’d gotten over the past days hadn't done her any favors either, leaving her alternating between too tired to plan and too restless to sleep. She’d given in at some point when it was light outside and taken half a stim pill. Half wasn’t so bad -- just a little stronger than a cup of caf. If she were lucky, she’d be done with her tasks by the time it wore off, and the crash, an exaggerated word for a dose so little, would mean an easy, restful sleep. She shook herself off, before her thoughts could wander longingly towards it. The job demanded her attention yet. Mara focused on the group in front of her, tapping her gloved fingers on the glass of water in front of her. 

She'd broken into the captain's personal comlink using the information she'd found on the datacard as part of her usual surveillance routine, unclear if it would be necessary. She'd ended up glad she had after the failed tailings. 

That the captain might reach out to Zygerrians despite the crews’ speciesism didn't surprise her. Cheaper than human hands, Zygerrians were familiar with all the trappings of the trade and unafraid to get their paws dirty if they had to. Specimens such as these were only a notch above the Trandoshans that the Twi’lek and Wookiees detested. Dressing themselves with fancy philosophy, Zygerrians by and large were still, at bottom, just another group of slavers.Their whole way of life had once depended on the slave trade.

Negotiations had proceeded as they often did, the pirates describing the job in the most ambiguous way possible. Their contact must have filled the Zygerrians in on the relevant details. This meeting should be to clear up any questions and work out initial terms.

“...just into the Gaulus sector,” Selmur was saying. “That’s why it’s a flat two thou.”

Mara could feel the Zygerrian’s disapproval despite their unfamiliar minds. “Should be double for the risk in so many.”

“Unarmed,” Selmur specified. “Easy pickings.”

“Never with a ship that size,” that same Zygerrian -- perhaps their leader -- objected. “How many is your crew?”

“That doesn’t concern you.”

The Zygerrian let out air through his teeth. “We do not work under circumstances such as this, agreeing without terms.”

“Nine,” Denk answered. 

“And don’t act like you got much choice,” Selmur broke in. “Your little clowder went belly up when the Empire did.”

One of them shot back, “Know your place. You can’t imagine what our _guild_ was like.”

They were right, Mara reflected grimly with the usual stab at her belly, the curdle of blood in her veins. Her fingers slid down the surface of the water glass then resumed their lazy tapping. Under the Empire, the Zygerrian Slaver’s Guild was one of the principal slave trading organizations -- not only had they received slaver permits, the Empire itself had been their largest client. 

With slave trade now formally denounced and made illegal after the New Republic’s ascendance, the Zygerrian Slave Guild’s past visibility had made it a target. All but crushed, its members were forced to go try their luck on their own or go work for the other two largest slave trading organizations left alive by virtue of having operated underground since their inception.

The one speaking let out a mewling laugh. “Nine? You seek to move that many with a crew of nine humans?” 

“We want a healthy profit margin, let’s say,” Denk spoke casually.

“It cannot be done.” The Zygerrian hesitated. “And if it could, moving that much cargo will draw eyes. Especially if it’s from Ryloth. The Thalassians control it now. They won’t be likely to let you leave the system. You must have a borer.”

Silence fell on the table for a moment. 

That was interesting. Last Mara knew Thalassian slavers had been in skirmishes with the Karazak Slaver’s Cooperative. She didn’t know they had taken control of the slave supply chain from Ryloth. They must have negotiated something with the Hutts very recently. Her thumb idly rubbed a line on the condensation of the glass.

“Go then,” Selmur said. “We’ll find no problems looking for other takers. Not for cargo this big.”

“You have something else,” another one of the Zygerrians replied. “You must.”

“That’s none of your business, now is it? Clear off.”

“We will take five thousand.”

“For just the three of you?”

“You need experience.”

“Five thousand is a lot.”

“A capital ship full of unwanteds is a lot.”

Mara startled, straightening up and pulling her hands away from the glass. A kriffing _capital ship_?

“Shut up. Three is our final offer.”

“Four and a half. Or no deal at all.”

It was Denk who blew out a breath, content until then to let Selmur lead the negotiations. “Fine,” he snapped. They went into prosaic details about the ship and duties, but to Mara’s annoyance, there was no more talk about what they meant to do. 

A capital ship was huge. How the pirates could even dream of moving the amount of beings in one...they must be thinking of doing a classic boarding, but to a capital ship?

The firegems were starting to make a lot of sense, although she wasn’t sure how exactly they’d be put to use. The pirates would still have to get them into the ship with their victims to mount a threat -- a hostage situation. A measly transport couldn’t stand a chance with a capital ship, were they going to pick up another ship with which to mount an assault? And in enemy terrain?

The Zygerrians were right. Mara thought back to her earlier conversation with Skywalker. There had to be someone else helping them. Maybe she’d been too rash in giving Skywalker the datacards, but given that the _Jackal_ was meaning to leave today, chances were if she’d kept them and managed to send them to Ghent, the information would still get back to her too late.

Just that passing thought of Skywalker made her insides twist. Yesterday had been the first time he’d looked at her like that...

That was done, she’d made sure of it. He wouldn’t be interfering again. The way the night had ended was almost a relief.

And besides...unwanteds. A pejorative if there was one. In common parlance, _refugees_.

Mara brought her hands back around the glass. Kriff Skywalker and his clean little world. She’d lived for noble principles once too. 

She knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

The captain and his first mate were on the move. Mara waited a prudent amount of time before leaving credits on the table and following them out. 

\--

“Hand me the agitator,” Luke called out to Enif.

“We’re done after that,” Enif replied handing it to him. “Finish up and we’ll get lunch.”

Luke checked his chrono, wishing he could beg off. One more day and the team sent by NRI would be arriving alongside NR sec. Not a moment too soon, a little over a week had passed since he’d gotten on the _Jackal_ , and it’d felt much longer than he’d initially imagined. As the whole mission drew to a close, he found himself even more on edge, dread pressing into him.

“All right,” he continued from where he was giving the hull a scrub down. 

There was no reason for it that he could see, but it was sufficient enough of a concern that he was loathe to leave the crew, as much as he wanted to get as far away from them as possible. The pirates had continued in higher spirits, the deaths of their four crew members put behind them, buried maybe, in the expectation of profits to come.

All this unpleasantness would be over as soon as NR sec took over, at least. More lasting was the sting of ending things so badly with Mara. Even if it had been good bye two days ago, they’d been more or less on friendly terms. Now, not even that.

Luke finished from where he was working and went to rinse his hands. The crew save the captain and his first mate as usual were elsewhere probably securing permits for the next leg of the trip. Luke walked to the end of the docking bay to join them.

It was for the best anyway that Mara go her own way. She wasn’t ready for...anything. 

Regardless, it hurt. He’d asked her to trust him -- she’d trusted him even when she’d _hated_ him. What in the worlds had changed?

He had known the second he’d told her she was hurting that it might end in kickback, but he’d thought she’d exhausted all her anger on the Headhunter -- venting out a cool appraisal that twisted everything beyond recognition. There _had_ been anger in there, but the worst part was she’d believed it. Every word. 

_You believe you want the best for me._

How to help someone who so thoroughly believed in hidden agendas?

He hadn't expect it to get even _worse_. Had his rejection of her read of him been the cause of all of that? He must have hit on something, and Mara certainly seemed to lash out any time some vulnerability came up. That appeared to be the pattern since she’d left him with the Kala’unn. A new one it seemed, and one he was just getting his bearings on. He remembered her so differently at Wayland, nothing like now.

Could it be simply that they knew each other better? That didn’t seem to be it, and even if it were, it provided very little comfort -- or solutions.

Because there was that feeling that he _shouldn't_ have let things end that way, along with the inkling that no one else would have an easier time reaching her -- but it didn't seem like Mara was giving him any say in the matter. He was back in the same place where he started. She'd made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. That was that. End of story. He really should put it all behind him.

“So what happened with the tailhead last night?” Dunn whispered as they walked out. “She any good?”

Luke's jaw locked. “Don't start.”

“Let me guess it was all yes-yes until no. Told you getting one off the street was a bad--”

He passed Dunn a dark look. “Stop talking.”

“What is it?” Rennek called.

Luke stared off past them down the access corridor. Dunn didn’t answer. Morose as he had been before, the younger man also perked up once they were on planet. More horrible still, that fiasco with Mara yesterday had the unfortunate side effect of making Dunn friendlier, something Luke didn’t care to examine.

The skies outside were overcast and Luke stared up wondering if it was by design or some weather machine failure, but it definitely fit his mood.

He didn’t register the Toydarian at first. It was flitting in front of Rennek and Mahas at the head of the group on its small wings, it’s chubby body hovering in the air.

“No, we don’t want your kriffin’ transceiver shavit!” Mahas was raising his voice and swatting at the Toydarian who easily flew back to miss the blow. 

“Just look at them kind master, and I am very sure that you will change your mind.”

“He already said no,” Enif added. “Go away.”

“But you are missing a great buy -- no,” the Toydarian shook his head, eyes widening for emphasis as he neared Mahas, “An essential buy.”

“I won’t tell you again,” Mahas growled. “Get out of my face.”

“I promise you a good price,” the Toydarian insisted. “A fair price. The fa--”

Rennek’s hammer fist caught him right between his belly and chest, sending him down to the ground with a resounding thud.

This was when Luke’s attention finally snapped fully to the scene. “Hey!” 

Rennek wasn’t paying attention. “The next time someone tells you to go away, you go the kriff away.” He was about to kick the fallen hawker. The Toydarian was covering his face with his three fingered hands when Luke stepped in. 

“This really necessary?”

“You really get off on playing peacekeeper don’t you?” Mahas spat.

Luke raised his chin. “About as much as you do from starting shavit.”

Mahas stepped forward. “Yeah? I tell you, Stonn--”

“Did you not see him harassing us?” Rennek retorted over him with a glare in Luke’s direction. “He could use the lesson.”

Enif was shaking his head in exasperation. “I’m too hungry for you idiots to be getting into this now.” He continued ahead, mumbling to himself, Dunn and Dreiz at his heels. 

Rennek cast one last contemptuous look at the Toydarian. “You’re lucky I didn’t blast you like the gnat you are.” He flashed Luke an scornful look, but turned to catch up with the three crew members in front of him.

“I’m just waiting,” Mahas seethed but moved no closer. “Gimme a reason, Stonn.”

Luke bit down on a pointed retort. Mahas wasn’t worth the aggravation. 

His animosity only grew as Luke waited, but he turned as well and followed the others, leaving Luke alone with the Toydarian. 

Luke watched them go, knowing he should follow after them. They might say something useful. 

His gaze focused on the Toydarian on the ground, still curled up covering his face. He crouched by him. “You all right?”

It took him a moment to answer. The first thing he did was lower his hands, peering up at Luke. “Yes,” he said, as if surprised. “Yes, I think so.”

“Good.” With a sigh, Luke straightened up and started walking after the crew.

He heard the flutter of wings beside him. “Thank you, kind master.”

Luke shook his head. “It’s fine.”

The Toydarian didn’t seem to hear him. “Such a rarity to find...kindness in a place such as this. Do allow me to thank you--”

Luke waved a hand. “You don’t have to. It’s fine.”

“It would be wrong. What if I make you a fair deal on short wave transceivers?”

“I’m not interested.”

“Only because you haven’t seen what I can provide,” the Toydarian said, without missing a beat.

Luke kept walking “Look, I think it would be best if you just...went back.”

“Without expressing my thanks?”

“It’s fine. Really. I would just rather you let this go.”

“I can provide more than transceivers. I could be your guide...”

“I don’t need a guide,” Luke countered, eyes on the departing pirates. He should hurry up and join them, something about the detonator might come up. He doubted it though, most likely it was in the captain’s possession. 

“If I may say so kind master, and pardon me for my liberties in doing so, but you hardly seem to be part of that unsavory crowd.”

Luke turned his head towards the Toydarian, narrowing his eyes a little. 

“We see no shortage of pirates,” the Toydarian explained. “They’re easy enough to recognize if you’ve been at the end of their tempers one too many times. The _Jackal_ comes through here twice a standard year, I believe.”

“You know them?”

“Them?” The Toydarian shook his head. “Not personally. I know of them as another minor pack of slavers. So minor in fact that they replenish their ranks every so often. Whenever they come here it’s with a new member such as yourself.”

Luke flinched.

The Toydarian caught it. “Or not,” he quickly amended. “Necessity can often trump choice. We’ve all engaged in...unpleasant trade from time to time. But I apologize for my tangent, I only wish you’d allow me to repay you.”

“It’s not necessary,” Luke replied, beginning to move forward. Taking a break from the pirates was starting to sound better and better. He just didn’t know if he could afford it so close to the mission’s end. 

The Toydarian continued beside him and Luke gave him a sideways glance. Something about his words did flag. “So they pick up new crew often.”

The Toydarian brightened. He drew close and lowered his voice conspiratorially, “They do. As a matter of fact they are picking up new crewmembers. Zygerrians. Mean fellows.”

This didn’t surprise Luke. Mara had mentioned as much when she’d returned from spying on the captain several days ago, before Galen. That the Toydarian knew didn’t surprise him either, the depot seemed to be crawling with spies and informants. His mind went to the Kala’unn.

Still, no matter how many new crew the _Jackal_ picked up. They weren’t going to leave with them anyway. The crew turnover _was_ curious. Could the captain and his first mate be behind the deaths after all? He turned his head in the Toydarian’s direction. 

“What happened to the old crewmembers?”

The Toydarian’s eyes became slits. “Prying eyes everywhere, kind master, especially in this sector. Human heavy,” he added.

Luke fixed the Toydarian with a skeptical look. “You think I’m going to follow you to some dingy alley so you can try to rob me?” He shook his head. “It’s not the first time I’ve been to a place like this.”

“Rob you?” The Toydarian sounded offended. “How could one such as I rob you?”

He kept the skepticism on his face. “All right. You stay safe.” He lifted a hand in a half hearted wave and continued along. 

The Toydarian followed. “I am serious about thanking you.”

“I told you it’s fine.”

The Toydarian reached for something in his belt. “At the very least -- “ He was interrupted by a small Chadra-fan youngling who swooped in grabbing his pouch.

The Toydarian turned the direction in which the Chadra-fan went, screaming, “Stop, thief!”

This was not how Luke had expected lunch to go, but he could hardly let the thief get away. Tamping on a sigh, he used the Force to pull the Chadra-fan’s foot slightly. He managed to reach a side street as he fell, Luke and the Toydarian catching up to him. 

His Force sense rang with alarm as he neared and he slowed down the Toydarian scolding the fallen Chadra-fan, who was still holding the pouch away from him. A couple of other Chadra-fan younglings approached, yelling in their own language at the Toydarian. 

Luke scanned around the area for any signs of danger and found none, but the warning was clear. He was just doing another sweep, when another Chadra-fan youngling bumped into him, followed by another, and the next thing he knew there was some astringent gas in his face. 

He quickly turned his head, but it clung to his nose and throat and he began coughing. He heard the Toydarian saying something, but it seemed to be from too far away, and he was stumbling, the ground rushing up. 

\--

After leaving the cantina, Denk and Selmur stayed on the main street, took it all the way down to a shop. Mara tailed them restlessly, remaining outside at a distance, annoyed that she didn’t know what they were doing in there and speculating that they were probably scheduling some delivery of supplies. At least the weather was cool enough that she wasn’t half roasting under her Kubaz disguise.

If she wasn’t able to take out Denk and Selmur, her plans to wipe out the entire crew before NRI got in later tomorrow would crumble. She’d have to fix the hyperdrive as soon as she could, so she could leave with them and finish the job without the NRI getting in her way. With Skywalker out of her hair things _should_ be more straightforward than that. 

The thought immediately felt cloying, brought up a sour taste in her mouth. She pushed it aside. It was harder to do now that she was simply waiting for the captain and his first mate to come out. 

Mara yanked her thoughts back towards the buildings in the area. Her best opportunity to take Denk and Selmur out would be as they left the building they’d entered. She looked over to the roof of the building across the street. Long range would be best.

The problem was that she hadn’t known exactly where the captain would be going so she’d had no opportunity to procure and stash a proper weapon. The DL-44 she was packing was leagues more powerful than her holdout, but it didn’t have the range of a rifle. The roof was out.

Mara’s eyes roved lower over the building next to the one into which the pirates had disappeared. If one walked into the alley and looked up, that building had a second floor balcony area -- most likely some evening restaurant’s balcony, the area behind it obscured by metallic security shutters. She could climb up towards it relatively easily through an access ladder at the side, and its position on the side of the building afforded her some concealment from the main street.

The angle wouldn’t be easy to get a clean shot from though, and she’d vastly prefer it not to be in the light of day, but she might be able to make it work. It provided very little cover other than its position from the main street though. She’d probably only have one shot. 

But NR sec would be arriving soon to grab the pirates. This might be her best chance to take the crew apart. Cut off the head and the body only flailed. Maybe she wouldn’t get both Denk and Selmur, but she could at least get Denk. 

Any more time thinking and she’d lose her chance, Mara dashed towards the alley and began her climb up.

Mara made it up just in time to set up her angle. Just as she’d thought, it wasn’t great. The visibility towards the front of the shop was poor, hampered by the side of the building the captain and his first mate would be exiting. They’d have to be clear of the building which meant there was no backstop. If she missed, her angle made it so that the blaster bolt wouldn’t be stopped by the building’s duracrete. She’d be shooting _towards_ the street. While the range lessened the chances, there was still some probability that it could be stopped by a bystander or a moving vehicle in the speeder lane if either passed too close to the captain. Unlikely, but not impossible. 

It was a shavit set up.

Mara unholstered her blaster underneath the heavy cloak and lay down on her stomach, half covering the weapon with the cloak, trying to make herself as small and hard to see as possible. The cloak didn’t stand out too much from the duracrete of the balcony, so at least there was that.

Provided no idiot showed up to ruin her shot once she got it off, she’d have to rush from the balcony, getting rid of the disguise in the process. It was much riskier than she’d like. At least there was a minor street behind the building and some parked landspeeders, once she cleared the building, things would get easier. She’d track Selmur after -- he’d probably be scrambling to the ship. That’d be easier.

Mara looked towards the building, wishing for more range, settling herself down to wait, index finger tapping on the side of the blaster under her cloak. It shouldn’t be long. Her mind flashed back to the blinking light of her datapad. Confirmation. 

There was no reason she should feel that leaden feeling. She’d taken all the security measures she could. If after this, she only had seven pirates left, it’d be worth it. Without Skywalker in her way and the looming threat of the gems taking care off by dispatching the captain, she could take them out in a day. By tomorrow when NRI got in she could be done. By evening she could be leaving with Karrde’s people. 

Back to Coruscant.

Mara recoiled at the thought and shoved the feeling aside. Focus. She trained her eyes on the entrance of the building, stilling the tapping of her finger. At any moment, the captain and his first mate would emerge.

She should have never taken that Smuggler’s Alliance liaison position. 

Mara ground her teeth. This was no time to be letting herself be distracted. She’d think about that later.

Her palms sweated in her gloves. She couldn’t go back. Not now that she knew she didn’t belong there. She should have stayed with Karrde.

“I’ll have to stay at Coruscant,” she’d told him the last time she’d seen him. Everything, even her taking up the job had been done remotely since then. “For the beginning at least, while I learn the ropes.”

“It’s not ideal,” Karrde had answered. “I could use you with me still especially after all those introductions we made before the crisis started. But Skywalker and Solo have a point that this is the lay of the land. Sometimes we have to compromise to protect our long term interests.”

She’d nodded.

“But a more pressing question is if this is what you want to do. I never had the impression you had much love for the New Republic.”

Her head shot up. “I don’t. I thought I was protecting your interests.”

Karrde gave her a wry smile. “I have found that one does their best at a job they _want_ to do. Don’t take the liaison position for me, Mara.”

She spied an avuncular note under the words that rankled. “Does the organization stand to benefit from it?” she asked sharply. 

Something crossed through his face, a kind of wariness that she didn’t understand. Maybe she’d only imagined it, because he simply said, “Yes.”

“Then I made the right decision.” Saying that made her feel too exposed for some reason, but it was true. The New Republic _was_ her future. Liking it or not had nothing to do with it. Liking things never meant much.

“All right,” Karrde had leaned back on his chair, but his expression was no less guarded. “We’ll remain in touch then.” 

Mara forced herself back to the present, marshaling her focus. 

Just then, the captain and his first mate exited the building and she drew out her blaster further, cursing at the difficulty of her position. She aimed carefully at a few steps where they’d be, hoping that it’d be the captain who would walk forward into her sights first, hoping there was no one else close. 

It was. No one else nearby.

She pressed the trigger. The bolt shot loose. Mara rolled to the left and off the side of the balcony leaving her cloak behind. When she snuck a glance back, the captain was hunched but upright. Alive. Cries rose up from the street.

Mara couldn’t figure out more because blaster fire was all she could hear. A spray of bolts exploded beside her. She grabbed the railing, swinging herself down amid the heat and sparks. More than just one blaster. 

Mara bit off a curse as she hit the ground, going into another roll. She had her blaster out when she came back up. Heat burst into pain on her arm, just under her shoulder. This was not a place to have a firefight. No cover. She got off several shots right before ducking behind a pile of refuse that all but disintegrated with the next shot and she forced herself to keep moving.

“Leave it!” she heard the captain shout. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No--”

But Mara was already rushing out into the street. She slid behind one of the parked landspeeders and shed her mask and gloves into her satchel. She emerged carefully from the landspeeder’s cover without a disguise, clad in a simple beige tunic and dark pants, joining the crowd of pedestrians. 

Selmur stood in front of her between the buildings, scanning the scene, his blaster in hand. Her hand ducked into her satchel. It was almost to tempting too pass up. He wasn’t even looking her way. She could get rid of Selmur right there if it weren’t for the crowd of bystanders going towards him, rushing to see what had happened on the street over. 

Once there would have been some satisfaction in walking right in front of her quarry and knowing that at the very least she had her cover. A cover meant there was a next time. Or a time after that, if need be. A little patience was all it took.

But as she passed him, Mara felt none of that relief. Instead, a tight, warmth curled right in her stomach. She wished, irrationally, that Selmur would recognize her. Her muscles tensed at the mere thought of it, as if it truly were to occur, her heart pounding a harsh prelude.

All irrational because behind him three police droids had arrived at the scene, one of veering off to shoo away the crowd of onlookers in front of Mara, and Mara herself.

And so, she kept on walking. 

\--

Luke opened his eyes to find the room --what he thought was a room-- spinning and with a groan closed his eyes again. What had happened? He tried to piece things back, but only had a weird sensation of everything being distant from him, the air around him being thick.

Someone was speaking, and he opened his eyes again. Whoever was speaking next to him was a blur. He turned his head slightly and there was a huge womp rat at the far end of the room, hissing, it’s cloudy eyes and patchy fur speaking of disease. 

Luke shot back instinctively with a shout -- or wanted to.

He couldn’t move. His whole body felt numb. 

Wait, he thought. I’m dreaming.

There was whoever was there, still a blur, saying something he couldn’t understand. The room was blurry too, spinning still. Or was it him who was spinning?

Luke closed his eyes again. A hollow feeling was building up and underneath it, panic.

Not dreaming. It came to him some time later, maybe a minute, maybe an hour, once he realized he _couldn’t_ wake up. 

Drugged. I’ve been drugged.

Start small. Luke tried to sort out his basic perceptions as he breathed, pulling on the Force little by little as his frayed concentration allowed. He was lying down somewhere. A bed? There were lights, and someone else in the room. He could see his arm beside him, even though it didn’t feel like his.

Just that basic awareness centered him a little, enough to draw enough on the Force to push a bit of the dissociation back.To recognize it as such. He wasn’t spinning, he only _felt_ he was due to the drugs interference. The stranger was beside him, still a blur, so Luke stretched out with the Force to see what he could read--

The Toydarian.

That was important. Last he’d known he’d been attacked...by Chadra-fan younglings who’d sprayed...

Poison.

That’s how he’’d been drugged.

Luke inhaled, pushing off that weird feeling of disconnection from his own limbs. Detoxification techniques. He centered himself, pushing back more of the haziness, and a building buzz in his head. As he did he drew a bit more from the Force as much as he could, pushing the drug’s effects further and further back until the numbness peeled off. 

Clarity finally took hold some time later. He was on a bed soaked in sweat, his skin clammy, utterly exhausted, but he needed to figure out where he was. The room consisted of a simple bed, a bureau with a mirror, a small desk to the side, and a primitive ‘fresher unit. 

Luke sat up, legs wobbly as he ran through a quick refreshing technique. He meant to check his chrono, but it was gone. Whoever had done this had stolen it. The Toydarian and the Chadra-fan? A gang? It didn’t matter at this point.

His face hurt and he lifted a hand gingerly to his cheek, feeling scratches. His forehead still felt numb and he tentatively brought a hand there, finding a bacta patch. Why would they patch him up?

Luke went towards the mirror and unpeeled the edge of the patch to get a look. He winced as the side of the gash came into view and slid the patch back, the fall must not have been pretty by the looks of it. On top of the bureau there were a couple of water bottles and ration bars. 

Weird.

The chrono, comm and his credits were gone. So his attackers’ uncommon good will hadn’t stretched that far.

He patted himself and closed his eyes. His lightsaber too. The Toydarian must have found it when he searched him. They’d taken it too. 

He filed that as something to think about later. For now he needed to figure out where he was, how much time had passed, and how to get back to the ship. 

When Luke walked out he noticed there was not much around the building which housed the room. It was your typical droid operated laneside motel -- no being in sight. Luke felt worry creep up and pushed it off. Someone had to be around. Walking further there were various speeders stationed along the small lane beside the small, low complex.

Luke didn’t recognize where he was. Why had they dragged him there? Couldn’t they just have stolen his things where he dropped?

A male Sullustan was moving towards a nearby landspeeder, briefcase in hand. 

“Excuse me,” Luke called, jogging over to him, hoping he understood Basic. 

The Sullustan didn’t seem to hear him and he called a bit louder. “Do you have the time?”

The Sullustan finally seemed to register that Luke was calling towards him. He stopped. “Pardon?”

Luke had never been so relieved to hear the word. “The time.”

The Sullustan told him and Luke pieced up probably two hours had passed. The crew must be wondering where he’d gone.

Luke gestured to his surroundings. "Is the spaceport nearby?”

The Sullustan nodded. “About an hour away.” 

His heart sank. With no credits and no comm, he had no way of making it back. Why had they taken him so far? 

There wasn’t much to be gained from mulling that over now. “Are you going in that direction?”

The Sullustan looked at him oddly. Luke almost made a face at how it looked, him in his sweat-drenched flightsuit, and banged up face, asking for the time and for directions. He needed to find a way to get back to the spaceport though. The Sullustan suddenly tilted his head. 

“Wait, do I know you?”

Luke shook his head. He supposed his way of asking had been overly familiar. He bit his lip, hating being in this position. 

“My credits and my comm were stolen,” he started. “And I need to get back to the spaceport. I wouldn’t ask otherwise...”

The Sullustan stared at him fixedly. 

He would rather not have to mind trick him to comply, but if appealing to his better nature was not enough...

“I could pay you once I’m at the spaceport. I just need to get the--”

“Oh merciful Warren Mother,” the Sullustan blurted out suddenly, large eyes open wide. “Are you Luke Skywalker?”


	16. Failure Mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Timothy Zahn's _Choices of One_ :
> 
> As for the Emperor, he was available anytime she needed him, just the stretch of her mind away. She could hardly miss someone who was always there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some canon **atypical** violence.

__  
__  
_Well, I told you from the start_  
_Just how this would end_  
_When I get what I want_  
_And I never want it again_ [[x](https://youtu.be/6axU4mCC450)]  


  


 

Mara wove her way back through the minor streets to the spaceport. The captain and his first mate would probably be held up by the district police. No doubt after they got out they’d be wanting to return to the ship, contact their new employees and leave. She had maybe two hours while they were in police custody. At some point soon, she’d have to rush back to the ship and try to fix it while the crew filtered in or risk the delay making it easy for NRI to snatch them from her hands.

First though, she needed to make sure no one else would be getting on the ship. Mara burst into a tapcafe ‘fresher, the burn on her arm stinging hot. After making sure it was empty, she neared the mirror and rolled the sleeve of her tunic up to examine the burn through. The skin hadn't quite blistered yet, but it would. She dug in her satchel for a bacta patch and slapped it on with a hiss through her teeth. 

She lowered the sleeve, feeling the shadow of exhaustion at her heels, but her heart rate was still too fast. Mara swatted at the water and splashed her face, counted to four and breathed through her diaphragm, held her breath, and let it out slowly until the pounding in her chest lessened. She closed her eyes and cracked her neck listening to the running water. She brought her hands down to grasp the sides of the sink. She'd been too impatient. 

_“More will hate than love you, but I --”_

Her eyes flew open and she straightened up, yanking at the sink valve to close it. One thing was for that to crawl all over her head at night like a scavenging roachrat, another was for it to boldly emerge by the light of day like it owned the place.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror, bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils. Maybe it was that damn half of a stim pill. The first go round near a year back hadn't been that great, but she'd been taking them for days on end then. Two hospitalizations later though...maybe something wasn't the same. 

It wasn't truly failure unless you gave up.

Mara turned on the water and splashed her face again. 

\--

“You can’t be,” the Sullustan corrected himself, eyes narrowing as he stared at Luke.

Luke cringed inwardly. It was as close to a damned if you do damned if you don’t situation as he had been in.

“I am and I need to make it back to the spaceport. If you give me your name I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your--”

“Where’s your lightsaber?”

The cringe gave off to a mortifying feeling. 

“It was stolen.”

The Sullustan shook his head. “ _The_ Luke Skywalker who killed the Emperor?”

Luke couldn’t resist rubbing at his forehead in exasperation. No matter how many times he’d told the press office to kill the story, it hung on like sewage squid feeding on holothriller garbage. He would have made a public statement himself, except that Leia seemed to think the optics of it would be unfavorable especially now that it had captured the public’s imagination for so long. 

His sister didn’t have to live with the consequences though. 

Before he could deflect, the Sullustan rushed on, “ _The_ Luke Skywalker who averted the new Clone Wars?”

“There were a lot of beings working towards that." 

“You talk like him,” the Sullustan muttered, “But your lightsaber got stolen? Your comm and credits too, you said? How? Who could steal from a _Jedi_?”

The embarrassment rose up again. 

“I was...poisoned,” Luke forced out over his pride. “It was a surprise attack, more than one being. Younglings.”

The Sullustan nodded, comprehension dawning on his face. “Oh, I didn’t think that could work on a Jedi -- aren’t Jedi able to anticipate everything?”

Luke fought the impulse to fidget. He was wasting valuable time discussing trivial matters, but he fought off the annoyance. He depended on this Sullustan’s good will. In a place like Drenos, he couldn’t even blame him for being cautious. Clearly, he hadn’t been cautious _enough_.

“Not everything. I can tell you more if you’re curious, but I really should get to the spaceport, there’s people waiting for me.”

The Sullustan’s expression grew cautious again. “I still don’t know if you are who you seem--” he stopped once his briefcase was floating at nose level. “Well.”

Luke was already climbing into the landspeeder.

\--

Once seated at a corner booth, headscarf firmly in place, Mara ordered herself food and fished out her datapad, scanning over the information on the new prospective crew members, an answer to a query she’d sent the Kala’unn a few hours before.

They were common vermin like the rest of them. 

Mara ran over her options. She’d discarded her Twi’lek costume and didn’t have time to get into it again, so approaching them in that capacity was out. Her Kubaz outfit was likewise out. She’d much rather not approach them personally at all, especially after that mess with the captain and Selmur. Too close. What had she been thinking? 

The server brought her order, an early dinner, and she picked at it absentmindedly. It was time to reassess. After evaluating her alternatives, she’d decided to use the information the Kala’unn had provided to message the extra crew for an impromptu meet over at the end of Dancer’s Alley through the captain’s code. Given what the Kala’unn had planned, she was certain they’d end up in no condition to join any crews.

Gang wars often exacted unfortunate collateral damage. And Zygerrians had a history with free Twi’lek. 

They weren’t her targets anyway.

Some time after, her datapad beeped an incoming transmission. She simply stared at the message, a string of numbers, the code for a spaceport locker, for a long while. At least that was going according to plan. Maybe this meant the situation finally in her hands. 

All she felt was hollow.

She allowed herself to consider that after she was done the feeling would remain. Surely, hollowness was better than anything else. It was. It had to be. 

Mara shoved her plate back. It was too early to have dinner anyway. After leaving a few cred chips on the table, she set back to enter the spaceport. 

\--

The Sullustan laughed a bit self consciously as he zoomed through the airlanes. “Sorry about that. I’m Fem Orn“

Luke waved a hand. “It’s alright, Fem. Thank you for this.”

“Oh, you don’t have to -- I just...” He appeared at all loss. “This is not where I would expect to run into _Luke Skywalker_ of all people -- ” 

“What _is_ this area?” He didn’t mean to be rude, but it had been his experience that whenever he gave a stranger who knew more about him than he did them the chance, the cringe-worthy appraisals could be ceaseless. He already dealt with that yesterday with the Kala’unn, he didn’t want a repeat, especially not now. 

Fem glanced at him. “This is the industrial district. They do some mining here, but very little. Drenos gets most of its credits from its position as a way station to the Gaulus sector. Nothing much here.”

Luke frowned, reminded that whoever had poisoned him had not been content to rob him, they’d gone through the trouble of moving him _and_ haphazardly patching him up.

"So you’ve heard of these gas poisonings. Ones with decoys?” 

Fem nodded. “It’s a vash.”

“A what?”

“It’s a specific type of poisoning, meant to incapacitate the victim without doing damage. Gangs use it sometimes, mainly for black market organ trade.”

Luke’s eyes widened.

“You don’t want to damage the goods. Some poor soul wakes up on a street corner without a spleen. Never thought it could happen to a Jedi.”

Luke felt a flush creep up his face. “There was more than one.” 

“Ah, right, the younglings. _That’s_ called sectioning. Might not have been younglings at all. It’s the same principle of pickpocketting between two: you have one as a distraction, while the other does the work.” He flashed him a sympathetic glance. “Dirty tricks are a tool of the trade here, I’m afraid.”

He’d gotten distracted. That was foolish, as foolish as forgetting to bring up his Force disguise, or not realizing how far it could extend. He'd gotten off relatively unscathed, but it could have easily gone another way. 

“The good thing about vash,” Fem continued. “Is that it really is relatively safe once one gets past its sedative effects -- meant to put a human under for a good seven to eight hours. My guess is they grabbed you, found out who you are and decided you were too risky a target. Or changed their minds."

That did explain the patch, and he supposed, the fact that they’d left water and food. And yet...

Luke stared out the window watching the bare landscape roll by, trying to control his chagrin. How long had he been off balance like that?

\--

Mara pulled up the message with the locker code when she arrived at the spaceport, going over to the baggage storage area. Once there she found the number given and input the code from the message. With a quiet beep the locker door slid open and there it was.

Skywalker’s lightsaber.

A small gasp escaped her. Inexplicably. She’d known it would be there. She’d set up the terms for the job herself to the letter.

It wasn’t until now, she realized, that she hadn’t thought it would _work_.

Mara shut the locker, desperate to get as much space as possible between her and it. Once she was on the ship, she’d send one of her people to get it back to Skywalker. For now, it would stay there. He’d done fine without it for several days, he’d do fine without it for just a bit longer.

Mara pushed herself back onto the access corridors back to the _Jackal’s_ bay.

\--

Luke turned back to Fem. “You work here?” he inquired trying to change the subject. 

“On assignment. I work for Santhe Passenger and Freight. But I pass through here enough.”

“The shipping company?”

Fem nodded. “What brings you to Drenos?”

Just the question he didn’t want. “Business.” Fem glanced at him, and Luke softened his tone, “You work for Santhe? Engineer?” 

It wasn’t a subject he was particularly interested in, but keeping Fem talking meant he might be able to skip out on yet another round of narrating the exploits of Luke Skywalker, hero of the New Republic.

Fem shook his head. “I'm a Standards Inspector. We have some recent acquisitions here -- a couple of plants that provide material for our ships” 

Luke wracked his brain for the little he knew about Santhe -- if he wasn’t mistaken, the New Republic had dealings with them. It wasn’t a hard guess; given their shipping needs, there were few legitimate companies that hadn’t been contracted, but very few of them did substantial business at the Outer Rim. This had been yet another persuasive argument for legitimizing smuggler involvement in New Republic trade.

“You guys work this area?”

“That’s the plan -- if these plants get their work in gear we can assemble resources move a bit more. It’ll be a while yet.”

“That's unfortunate," Luke said neutrally. "For us too.”

He grunted. “Better they have issues than for there to be a catastrophic malfunction. Their system’s just unstable, anymore load is dangerous. It’s just simple risk management.”

The concept wasn’t foreign to Luke, sometimes it seemed that at some point that was what his life had started boiling down to. Was that why he felt so lost? Had he been playing it too safe?

Before he could stop himself, his mind went back to Mara as they walked into the holds.

_Risk isn’t cheap._

“I never thought of risk management as simple,” Luke put in lightly, still feeling that squeeze in his chest. It had been just a night ago.

“Well, not simple,” Fem corrected himself. “Just that there’s worksheets and techniques. It’s a cut and dry process. Quantitative.” He laughed self consciously. “This must be a bore. My apologies.”

“No,” Luke objected. “It’s fine. I don’t hear about things like that too often. It's, ah, refreshing.”

“Really? I supposed the military would have these kinds of processes in place.” The Sullustan threw him a quick glance. “But wait you were a pilot, was it?”

He nodded, not wanting to go further into that line of inquiry, “And I’m not in the military anymore. Is it always a quantitative process?”

Fem shook his head. “Santhe prefers quantitative, but it can be a qualitative assessment too.” 

He couldn't pull his thoughts away from the previous evening, now that they'd found themselves there. Mara hadn’t played things safe at all. Had things gone her way, it’d be Dunn dead, and the rest of the pirates after them, his cover blown. Who knew where it would spiral after -- for her, for them, everyone else. But that was the whole point, he was certain now. Playing things as if she were still...expendable. Raising the stakes so as to entirely consume one's attention with the task at hand. 

“Most of the time,” Fem was saying. “I just look for where things go wrong. That’s what most of the work comes down to.”

Luke made an acknowledging sound. “Testing?”

“No, others do that. I do more large scale failure analysis.” He glanced over at Luke. “You’re sure this is not boring you?”

Luke smiled. “No.” He paused. “It takes me back -- used to have to figure out all the ways things could go wrong.” 

“Not quite as stressful as that,” Fem sounded a bit self effacing, “I’d imagine, but same principle. The hazard, of course, being escalation.”

\--

Mara waited for a few minutes trying to decide which member of the ground crew seemed more amenable for persuasion. In the end, it was a lanky Duros male, who seemed just a tad irritable at being made to hose down that part of the bay. 

She checked her chrono, preferring _not_ to have to wait for him to get on break. It might prove ultimately worthwhile though, if anything because it was safer to do so, especially after the mess earlier. She could spare the time. The police station wasn’t that close, even if they were just released, the captain and Selmur would take a while yet to get to the ship.

Her disguise was on the lighter side, simply synth flesh to round out her face more and the thick headscarf, bare basics should the crewmember worry or anyone ask questions. They wouldn’t. She watched as the Duros finished his work. On her way back, she'd picked up another cloak, a tan one this time, and had changed into a dark blue flightsuit she now wore under the cloak.

It wasn’t too long a wait. She followed the Duros out, her hand reaching into her cloak.

\--

“Escalation? How do you mean?”

“In any complicated system one thing fails and it leads to another and another, until the whole thing goes belly up.”

Something about that explanation nagged at him, but he couldn’t place it. The murders perhaps? He thought back to who remained: the captain, Bareth, Enif, Strilath, Rennek, Dunn, Dreiz, and Mahas. The Toydarian had said this happened often and while Luke had doubted the captain, he was forced to admit he hadn’t exactly had time to adequately probe him or Bareth.

It _could_ be one of them, even if it were stupid. It did mean less crew to draw out death marks. Get new workers, as they were doing, and they could make up for the hassle of losing hands by having less eyes on them.

Did that mean the murders were random? Why Kruk and not Enif? Why Jeshi and not Dunn?

Why Galen and not him?

“How do you isolate one variable?” Luke mused. “If a system can fail in multiple ways?”

Fem shrugged. “Limit the information you’re consuming. That’s the danger with complex systems. You take a distant look and it’s too much information. You can’t adequately draw conclusions of where the problem is. Too much noise.”

“You narrow down.”

“Even if it’s a thought exercise,” Fem agreed. “The critical point is not that hard to see once the noise is pushed away. Look at where you’re drawing truths where you should be drawing hypotheses.” 

Luke considered it. 

“Same principle as examining bias. Throw everything on the table. We have engineers who built entire systems on the notion that a part couldn’t fail. Foolishness.”

The Sullustan glanced at him again. “Everything can fail, right? It’s just a matter of strain and pressure.”

\--

Mara closed her eyes and tried to relax her muscles. The cargo box she was in lurched as it was moved. Every time it did the burn on her shoulder rubbed against the narrow sides, making Mara grit her teeth. At least the Duros was playing his part well. From there, she was sure the crew wouldn’t question it the delivery. Soon enough she’d be back in the ship. 

The crate came to a stop. 

She wasn’t exactly sure where the crate would be left within the cargo hold, but the lightsaber should give her a way out. The next item on her task list would be to fix the hyperdrive. From the movement of the crew around the docking bay, she was certain they’d try to set off tonight. The other option would be to wait for the crew to figure out their hyperdrive had failed -- that might happen once they were past Drenos. Left on their own they might not even fix it before NRI got to them. The further they were the better.

Mara felt the loadlifter jostle the crate again. She stretched out with her senses, recognizing the presences of the pirates. 

Now, she just had to wait for the crate to be placed inside the holds.

This was the part she hated, just laying here feeling the minutes tick by, stuck here doing nothing. Mara visualized herself at the holds, her lightsaber carefully carving out a chunk of the crate’s side. She’d need to make sure-- 

_“More will hate than love you, but I--.”_

Mara inhaled and shoved the thought away, hating the flash of Skywalker’s lightsaber in her mind. She was just going to get this job done, give notice, and put the sham of Coruscant right behind her. All the bad memories would be gone. 

Sending her senses out to make sure there were no presences immediately around her, Mara fumbled in the cramped space of the crate for the lightsaber. This was enough of waiting. She wasn’t too sure of the crate’s placement, so she angled the hilt horizontally for a small side cut, enough to at least get a peek as to where she’d ended up. 

A few moments later she was scooting to her side. The crate was over another, and there was another above it. She’d have to exit through the side and hope that either the crate held or that she was out before the cuts she made lead to it’s collapse under the crate on top of it. 

Drawing a breath she set to work, making the smallest opening from which she could slide out. Mara decided it would hold, it was just a matter now of making sure she could climb down. 

Mara made it to even ground, the familiarity of the cargo hold more wrenching than she cared to think about. She dashed towards the ends to make her way into the vents.

\--

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived back at the spaceport. Luke had sensed nothing to be concerned over from Fem, but all the same he asked to be dropped off a prudent distance, thanking the Sullustan and taking his contact information despite his protests. Luke felt his departure with some wistfulness. After the week he'd had, the simple mundanity of a being just going about his business hurting no one had been a breath of fresh air.

Nothing reminded him more of that than the tension that mounted anew as he approached a computer terminal. Luke entered in his passcode and encrypt to check on the latest from NRI. 

Luke breathed a bit easier as he scanned over the message. The NR task force they’d sent should be coming out of hyperspace shortly. The pirates themselves weren’t set to clear until much later. This job was all but done and not a moment to soon. He turned away and walked back towards the docking bay.

He was greeted by a buzz of anxiety, right at he was confronted with the docking bay's chaos, loadlifters hauling supply crates and loading them up under Enif and Rennek’s supervision. Dunn and Strilath were at the opposite side of the bay where the ship was being refueled.

“I thought we were starting prep in a couple of hours?” he called out without a greeting.

"The Toydarian Defender appears at last," Rennek prodded, his back to Luke as he scanned in some crates. "Thought we'd have to leave your ass."

Luke turned to Enif who was concentrating on a document on his datapad. "What's going on?" 

“Boss commed, we’re clearing out early,” he replied without looking up. Alarm shot through him. "How come you weren't answering your comm?"

Enif raised his head. “The kriff happened to you?”

Rennek turned around and and Luke felt anxiety shoot up from both of them.

"You got mugged?" Rennek asked and Luke got the feeling he was looking for an affirmative. 

Why would they clear out now? “Yeah, I --”

“No time for catching up." Enif went back to his document. "Check on the loading on the other side. We don’t have a whole lot of time to get everything sorted and packed in.”

His eyes widened. _No._ “Wait, why are we leaving so soon?” 

“Didn't you hear him? Get to work.” Rennek went back to the crate he'd been scanning.

Holding his tongue, Luke ambled over to where Enif had gestured. The whole bay was teeming with the pirates' nervousness. Luke checked the loadlifters and input the instructions, wondering how to find out what had happened without rousing suspicion. Were they now aware that their hyperdrive wasn’t functioning? He wasn’t sure exactly what sort of sabotage Mara had gone for. If it was subtle enough the pirates could miss it and leave, only to remain stranded in the system, making them relatively easy for the task force to catch regardless of the early departure. 

If the pirates _had_ figured out there was something wrong with the hyperdrive, the effect might not be too different. Finding a specialized hyperdrive tech would be borderline impossible at this time of day no matter who they bribed. The task force could easily detain them as they waited for the tech to show. 

Working through these scenarios, he barely felt Dunn approach. 

“What happened to you?” 

Luke looked up from the crate he was getting an estimate of. Dunn wouldn't find it suspicious if he asked. 

“Mugged. Why are we taking off this early?” 

Dunn seemed to hesitate. Luke sensed the same nervousness from him. 

“Boss and Bareth got attacked.”

Luke straightened up. “By who?”

Dunn shrugged. “Bounty hunter? Stri doesn’t know - wasn’t with them. Boss commed him. Happened out in the open, too, just a couple of hours ago. Boss said no Core death mark would make it out here but I dunno. Who attacked you?”

Luke thought fast. Was his vashing related to this in some way? But why single _him_ out? He hadn’t been with the crew that long. Worse yet, whoever had attacked him now knew he was here. 

He wasn't gaining anything from feeding the pirates' more paranoia fodder though. "Not a bounty hunter. Just another cantina run-in. Took my comm and credits." 

Dunn didn't look relieved exactly, but his anxiety had lowered a notch.

"Took a chunk of your forehead too from the looks of it." 

Luke made a dismissive noise, wanting to figure out whether the pirates knew about the hyperdrive. He couldn't ask outright.

He opted for “Who’s doing the engine checks?”

Dunn turned his head toward the gangway. “I dunno. Why?”

That hadn't been helpful. Luke hoped that meant they didn't know. 

"Trying to get a sense of when we're leaving," he replied. "Since I almost missed it. That's all."

"I don't think he's sent anyone yet. That'll happen the boss is on his way or something. We're leaving once he's in."

“Stonn,” Rennek called from the other side of the bay. “Gimme some help with this.”

With his stomach twisting, he went over.

\--

Mara crawled as quickly as she could through the vents. Something about being back in the press of metal, the smell of dust and ship parts raised her hackles. No reason for it.

_“More will hate than love you, but I--"_

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, summoning focus. Just a little longer, she told herself.

The crew was keeping busy outside with the loading. It would be some time before they wandered in towards the engine room. This would give her enough time to get the flux connectors in line. Her initial disabling of the hyperdrive hadn’t been that complicated. 

The right vent came up and she pulled herself down and into the corridor that lead to the engine room. Once she'd darted through the hatch, she went over past the outer area with the computer relays to the noisy inner one which housed the hyperdrive module. The engines had been put on stand-by, which was par for the course for a quick departure.

Mara pulled her satchel beside her and took her tools out. She rolled up her sleeves and went into opening the access panel to get at the wiring and connectors. For a few blissful moments she lost herself in flux component alignment, as effortless and mindless as to be instinctive. Certain. Pure.

A short while later, she sat back on her heels looking at her handiwork. That was it, the _Jackal_ should be ready to take to hyperspace again. A sinking feeling came over her at the thought and with it, another wash of memories that made her throat close.

_“More will hate than love you, but I--”_

The hollowness of a betrayal so absolute it left her numb, frozen in the spot.

Mara breathed in for a bit.

My decisions. My reasons. Mine. Mine. No one else’s.

It’d be over soon.

She stretched out to get a sense of where the rest of the pirates were once more, and froze, feeling as if her sublights had gone out and she was plunging through the atmosphere in free fall.

Skywalker? At the bay? How --

Hands grabbed her by the head. Her elbow lifted up in a strike as she turned, slammed into bone.

Her assailant let out a startled cry, near drowned out by the hum of machinery. She dashed out of his grasp, pivoting into a round kick. The motion allowed her a decent glance. The slightly hooked nose. Face contorted in rage.

Crofin.

The heel of her boot smashed into his side, sending him crashing against the bulkhead. He'd been reaching for his blaster and it clattered down under some components. Probably hadn’t wanted to use it initially, surrounded by this much machinery, might have thought it twice after he got an elbow in the face.

Mara brought up her vibroblade from her boot. Her own blaster was in her satchel behind her, too far away to reach. She advanced, slashing up into air when Crofin lurched back. He swung with his right, which she blocked with her off arm, stepping in to stab under his outstretched arm, his cry sharp in her ears. He’d be fighting her and time now. 

It was too early to consider this over. Her hands now slippery with blood, she couldn’t get a good hold on her blade after a couple of stabs. Lost it when Crofin lowered his arm. Air whooshed around her as Crofin swung with his other arm. 

She'd ducked and skittered back, but not far enough. Crofin yanked her forward by the flightsuit, her slippery hands unable to get enough purchase to break his hold. He shoved her bodily against the bulkhead before she could try again, her teeth clacking together from the impact. The why of distance, she thought, dazed. His hands grabbed at her head and she heard the thunk as he knocked it against the bulkhead, spots bursting nova-bright in her vision. 

Mara instinctively threw her arm up to cushion her head against the next blow. He did it again, pain lighting up all along her arm when it was pounded against the durasteel. Crofin might be cursing at her, but it was hard to hear anything above the rapid fire of her heart against her chest.

She was better than this. 

Crofin’s force was lessening. All she needed was one good opening. She was still hazy enough that he actually got his hands around her throat, and there it was.

She'd hurt him so he wanted the petty pleasure of seeing her face as she gasped and struggled. Or maybe he wanted to buy himself another round without bleeding for it. Amateurs always went for the impractical.

Mara reflexively threw her head forward, bashing his face, and his hold gave. She darted away, the adrenaline surge screaming through her. 

Where had her blade gone? A hydrospanner stuck out between two panels, long as a man's forearm. 

Crofin approached, his face bloodied. She kicked high, but sloppy. His hand snapped towards her ankle and twisted, throwing her down. She landed hard on her hip, rolled to avoid him stomping on her knee, and pulled her legs back in a sweep that sent him sprawling forward. 

Mara scrambled further inside the inner room, pushing herself across the deck a few paces with her heels. Once he went up on his arms, she'd slammed her heel against his face, sending him back down.

That's when Mara reached toward the hydrospanner as she whipped her foot out again for good measure, fingers closing on the metal.

Crofin had come back up, and the hydrospanner caught the edge of his skull in the first swing. His shout tapered off to an animal screech as he collapsed, but Mara wasn't done. She threw herself at him, shifted for a better angle, and swung her arm back, slamming the hydrospanner down at his forehead, hard and again, harder, thinking of roachrats, thinking she _always_ finished what she started, always, nothing else would suffice, not now, not ever, not for her. Finally she lowered her arm and just stayed where she was, waiting for her heartbeat to settle.

With a grimace, she wiped her face, blood smearing across her forearm. Mara forced herself to stand up, however unsteadily from where Crofin lay. 

Kriff. Her eyes roved over the gore splattered bulkhead and deck, settled on Crofin's ruined face. What a mess.

It wouldn’t do to leave a body where it could be found easily. Mara looked around. She hated when her kills were not clean. Everything became exponentially more complicated. 

They’d be coming in to check on why Crofin hadn’t come back from his check on the engine. Whatever she did, she had to do it fast. Mara spied the label for the access hatch for the secondary propulsion tank. There’d be no reason for anyone to look in on that any time soon. 

Steadfastly ignoring the protest of her ankle -- a souvenir from the fall, she guessed -- Mara dragged the body a few feet. Too heavy. She was losing time. She palmed some lubricant nearby, uncapped it and emptied all of it out on the floor in a path to the hatchway that lead to the tank. That done, she tried again keeping herself on dry ground as she slid the body over the oily fluid. The mix of the chemicals with the sickly sweet smell of blood was making her gag, but at least the body moved more easily. 

Mara made a face at the tracks on the floor. It would do her no good to have gone through so much trouble moving the body just to have it found out automatically because some other lowlife slipped. She paused to rid of the body off its flightsuit. She’d need it to wipe up the worst of it.

With painstaking effort, Mara finished dragging the body to the access hatch and pushed it in until she could close it. She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath before turning to a wipe down of the walls and the floor with the flightsuit.

In the fringe of her awareness she felt Skywalker down the corridor, rushing towards the engine room. She sped up her cleaning, registered her hands, stained a deep crimson, slick with blood. They’d be sticky once it dried.

Mara suppressed a sudden wave of revulsion, summoning her concentration to shield as she hurried to finish. She didn’t need this. Not right now. 

Why the fuck was he here?

She couldn’t even run into the vent and escape -- she couldn't leave the mess behind. Nowhere to run or hide. Trapped.

To hell with him. The wave of disgust got worse and she clenched her teeth against it. Was she supposed to let the pirate kill her? Was she supposed to let all of them keep up their slaving and killing?

_“More will hate than love you, but I --”_

She stood -- maybe too quickly because she teetered a little on her feet, had to lean against the bulkhead. Different words, but the same voice and --

I thought I shut you up.

Catching herself, Mara swallowed and was back to the inner room. She threw herself again into a feverish wipe down of the bulkhead.

Mara scrunched the flightsuit into a ball. She gave the general area one last once over, palming her vibroblade from where it’d fallen and wiping it on the side of her flightsuit before sheathing it, then grabbed Crofin’s blaster. She opened the access hatch and threw in the gore-sodden flightsuit and the blaster. 

“Mara?” 

She squeezed eyes shut at the sound of his voice.

“Mara?”

She felt him reach out, jarring her with the intensity of it, Force presence momentarily so overwhelming and intolerable her stomach heaved and she staggered, leaning again heavily against the durasteel, palms clammy, cold sweat at the back of her neck.

Skywalker withdrew in the next instant and she forced herself to move away from the bulkhead. Looked for words. Basic ones. Found the right firm tone for them.

“Don’t...don’t come in here!"

Skywalker had been probing for her health. How long had it been? Seconds possibly. Her shields had held, or he’d simply not probed too deeply, either way he stayed where he was. Normalcy rushed back in like high tide. 

On impulse, she reached for one of the minor lubricant lines and sliced her blade through it. It immediately began pouring out, covering the floor. She sprayed it on the walls too for good measure. The lubricant smell thickened in the air, covering the leftover carnage perfectly, a clever tactic, even if she couldn’t find much satisfaction in it. 

It’d just been too long, she told herself. You know how it goes.

Meanwhile, she could hear Skywalker working his comm. “No, Mahas isn’t here. I don’t know where he is. Did you check the holds?”

Mara resolved not to think about that as she went to the inner area controls and jammed them into an excessively dim setting. It _was_ getting better, her body was starting to ache, but the nausea was being replaced by numbness. These were just problems. Problems she could solve.

The lubricant spill should buy her some time. If it weren’t for the gems, letting them find the body as it was wouldn’t be a bad strategy, terror did serve-- 

“Mara?”

Her face twisted and it _hurt_. Really hurt. Crofin must have gotten her good on that side. 

Mara walked towards Skywalker in the outer area.

“Are you--” he broke off with a gasp when she came into the light.

“I’m fine.” She wouldn’t look away. Let him take a good look.

Between the patch on his forehead and the reddish, bruised skin under his eyes and the collection of scrapes across his cheek, he'd taken a good pummeling himself. Looked like a fall though.

She wanted to say, I am not a rugger. 

Instead she said, “Crofin. Isn’t.”

Skywalker blew out a breath, and even though she was avoiding picking up anything from him, his relief crashed into her with all the violence of a storm front on a rocky shore. She kept herself from swaying through sheer force of will.

“I know.” Skywalker's eyes seemed huge in the light. “I know. Did he...”

It took her a second to process he was asking if Crofin had raped her. 

"No." The numbness receded ever so slightly. No. She clung to it, but it was turning into smoke and what was left...

She didn’t like what was left.

“And you--you-- “ He lifted a hand towards her. 

Mara took a step back into the dim recesses of the boundary between the inner and outer areas. She couldn’t take it if he touched her. Panic tasted coppery in her mouth.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was steady.

_More will hate than love you, but I--_

Skywalker lowered his hand. He couldn't be seeing much of her where she was now, but he still stared as if the blood he’d seen on her face, on her hands had been hers.

_I will always be with you._

No, she thought, eyes on her boots, the layer of lubricant thick around them, dark like tar. I thought I shut you up. 

“I’m fine,” she repeated. 

Mara still didn’t dare take a step from where she stood, ensconced in shadows. She wanted to stay right there in the dark for as long as she could. Forever, maybe.

I thought I shut you up. 

But she couldn’t. There were still things to do. 

Mara looked up at Skywalker. “I need to use your ‘fresher.”


	17. Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From _Choices of One_ :
> 
> _My child?_
> 
> Mara closed her eyes and stretched out to the Force. _My lord_ , she called back. 
> 
> _Is all well?_
> 
> Mara hesitated, suddenly wanting very badly to tell him of her loss, to feel his strength and be comforted.
> 
> But he was the Emperor. His responsibilities spanned a galaxy. He had no time for the softness of emotion or sorrow.
> 
> And she was the Emperor's Hand. Neither did she.

_I let you down I know it_  
_I let you down over and over_  
_I don’t want to dance_  
_I don’t know how_  
_I don’t want to dance_  
_I don’t know how to dance with you_ [[x](https://youtu.be/OWr5FawT2Ks)]  


  


  


There was a welt that dripped blood down the side of her face. The whole right side of it in fact was rapidly swelling and angrily red, blood smudged from various abrasions. Then there was the torturous way she was walking, as if everything hurt. Her sleeves were rolled back and there was engine grease smeared over her hands, up to her elbows. 

Mara had taken off her boots shortly after emerging from the room, wiped the soles of them on her flightsuit’s pants, which already were blotched with dark stains, and carried them in her hands by the collar. Luke stared, vaguely uncomfortable, but unable to pinpoint why in the snarl of all he felt. 

“I...I spilled some lubricant,” she said quietly, her eyes on the access corridor in front of them. “A lot of it, actually.”

That explained the smell. Luke did another hasty probe of her injuries. Nothing internal flagged. The Force had been spiking with rage and anguish, and he’d _felt her_ \--

He’d feared...

Luke snuck yet another glance at Mara. The rest of the pirates were outside working with cargo. There was no need to climb into the claustrophobic space of the vents and the way Mara was moving, that was just as well. Mahas had been the only one to go into the ship as far as he’d known. 

Just the thought made Luke’s stomach tighten, fury as incandescent as it was instant...and useless. Mara had defended herself. That she was here was proof enough. Maybe if he'd just gotten to her sooner, but that thought was also unproductive right now. He probed her lightly again.

She was shielding but bits of her turmoil rose up, nothing he could pin down with accuracy, his own feelings were far too unstable and he simply kept going through calming exercise after calming exercise until his own agitation was back to something barely manageable. And then he went through another calming exercise again.

Luke hadn't detected any internal injuries. Superficial head wounds tended to bleed considerably, he reminded himself. She was coherent enough to have asked for some time, to walk on her own. Some remorse rose up; he shouldn’t have even thought to ask her anything. What did it matter how Mahas had hurt her? That he’d hurt her like that was enough.

But underneath, one question that twisted within him. Why’d she come back? Her face was tight with the effort of walking at a natural pace and he’d offer a hand, but he knew better. _Why_ wasn’t important right now, he decided. What mattered now was that she was okay. 

“Crofin’s body,” Mara said quietly once they were back at his cabin. “Is in the hatchway that leads to the secondary propulsion tank. I don’t think they’ll have reason to look right now, but when they do, they’ll come after you. Be ready. They’re not going to pause.” 

Luke’s comm sounded right on time and Mara nodded dully, as if she'd expected it, even that minute movement seemed to pain her. 

“We need you over at the engine room,” Enif’s voice rang out. “It’s a karkin’ mess here.”

His stomach clenched some more. “I’ll be right there.”

Mara was watching him, her eyes losing that distance. “The lube spill. If they’re calling you that’s why.”

“Yeah.” He nodded although it was difficult to make sense of her words. She was standing in front of him and he couldn't think over her bloodied face, the garishness of it, her eye was already swollen shut. There was no use to visualizing what he'd do to Mahas if she hadn't blasted him. All of it was wrong, he told himself. He'd seen it when stormtroopers shot at her, when C'baoth had struck her with Force lightning, but seeing her like this, knowing who the pirates were, _felt_ different. Dangerously so.

She turned away and walked falteringly towards the ‘fresher, boots still in hand.

\--

Mara pressed her forehead to the shower stall as the water washed down. The hot water loosened her sore muscles, the sting from the various bruises and cuts surfacing. She couldn’t get the pain suppression technique working. She turned the shower off. 

She was too tired. Or maybe she’d forgotten. Maybe she’d lost the Force again.

In any case, her aches were nothing.

Skywalker would come back. It was just a matter of time before he knocked at the door wanting some explanation. Some assurance.

He shouldn’t even be here.

Mara crouched down on the floor feeling the water drip down. 

This was supposed to happen, she reminded herself. The heaviness was normal after a close quarters kill. Ages ago, she recalled it from a tutor, a hardened soldier from special ops, no quarter no mercy but clean kills. Keep your kills clean as much as you can. Control. Logic. Restraint. 

We are not terrorists.

She wanted to laugh, but didn’t, her eyes burned enough as it was. She just needed rest. That was all.

And when you can’t, her instructor had continued, your enemy will do anything to see you dead. Anything. 

Get there first.

The water below her feet was clear now. She blinked away the brown of the lubricants, the blood that superimposed itself on it. Just rest. She was running on fumes.

But she couldn’t help thinking of the first time she'd come back from a job gone messy. Her former master had sat with her wordlessly for _hours_ at the Palace Gardens. She could still smell the fragrance of the lula blossoms in the breeze. 

She’d never talked about it, but he’d known what happened. Of course, he’d known, he’d always been there, but he’d been _there_ too, sitting beside her. A galaxy to watch over, and there he’d been watching silently over her, not just for one day, for the next, and the one after, and the one after that. Like he cared. Like she mattered.

_More will hate than love you but I--_

A couple of weeks later she’d forced herself back to combat practice. A month after that he’d given her the next assignment. She’d promised herself not to be so weak again, not to burden her master so.

 _Are you sure? This is under your paygrade, Mara_.

She stayed there feeling the water wash over her, until the clammy feeling in her insides lessened. 

This was different. She’d chosen this. 

If allowed, the pirates would keep their raping and slaving. The only way a food chain operated was for the apex predator to keep the wildlife in check. She’d learned that on her own. 

Mara stood and reached for the towel.

\--

The smell of high grade lubricants slapped Luke in the face the second he returned to the engine room and walked into the darkened inner room. Enif was inside swabbing furiosly at the console. There was a layer of black liquid everywhere, not just the controls, but the bulkhead and all over the deck. He spied Dreiz and Rennek just behind Enif sorting through the various hoses near the back of the room.

“What happened here?” Luke asked. He hadn’t expected that much of a mess inside the engine room. What exactly had happened? 

“Weren’t you checking for Mahas?” Enif craned his neck up. “Didn’t you see that there’s a karkin’ lube spill? Shoulda told us. That Toydarian had to have whacked you pretty hard.”

Luke went cold for an instant, realizing he’d been caught but a clearly harried Enif just scowled and went back to swabbing at the controls with his rag as he muttered, "Sorry. I was looking for Mahas' at the cabins. He's not there."

“Nevermind. That scumwad. Maybe he fragged something up when he came to check the engine. Can’t kriffin’ trust anyone,” he muttered under his breath. "Kriff him."

He’d gotten out of that one, at least, Luke thought. “What do you need?”

Enif gestured behind him. “Rennek and Dreiz are patching up the line back there and working on the lights. I need you to get the hydromop and detergent from the supply stores. The captain just got in. We raise ship in an hour and now this.”

Luke made an acknowledging sound and rushed out, taking the turbolift downlevel, trying to piece what had happened, but he couldn’t stop thinking of when Mara first emerged from the interior area of the engine room, face blood splattered, eyes opaque.

He pushed the image aside, feeling a sharp anxiety on its heels threatening to blot out everything from his mind, because he _knew_ what the pirates were. He _knew_ what they were capable of and, especially Mahas, Dunn had called him an _animal_ , and he’d hurt her; it looked like he’d struck her on the side of her face again and again--

Luke stopped, his breathing fast, pulse loud in his ears.

He inhaled through his nose, exhaled slowly. Name it, came an old lesson. A vital one. 

_Name it. See it for what it is._

He’d feared the worst...

That Mahas had been brutalizing her. Raping her. Killing her.

_Then let it go._

Mara had defended herself. She'd proven herself more than capable of it through the time he'd known her. Mahas was gone, and the rest he’d deal with one step at a time. He just needed to figure out where things stood first on all fronts.

And still, Mara’s warning came back to him as he took the supplies up. 

_I don’t think they’ll have reason to look right now, but when they do, they’ll come after you._

He hoped they would.

As Luke returned to the engine room, he thought that worse than going back to help when he should be tending to Mara, was having to stand by and watch Enif go check the hyperdrive, knowing that NR sec had to be close.

“What’s the problem?” Luke overheard Rennek ask.

Enif answered. “The diagnostic found something, but everything is clear. Karkin’ false alarm. Did you check the damn system? It’s the same shavit as in the holds last week.”

“Can’t be -- I checked the computer before we left hyperspace,” Rennek called from where he was behind Enif. “Maybe it has to do with the leak?”

“No,” Dreiz’s voice from even deeper in the room, “that has no connection with the hyperdrive. It’s probably a connector thing. Those are hard to diagnose. But could you get the lights working, Rennek? I can barely see my own hands here.”

Enif cursed. His eyes landed on Luke and he came over to take the cleaning supplies from him. “Stonn, see how the loading’s going with Dunn and Strilath.”

With reluctance he pulled himself away and went back out the ship. He didn’t know if not being there while his plans crumbled into pieces was better than staying and watching it happen. Strilath and Dunn were apparently done and met him halfway up the gangway.

“What’s going on?” Strilath asked. “Did you find Mahas?”

Luke shook his head. “No. You didn’t see him go out?”

Strilath shook his head. “Enif and them?”

“Haven’t seen him either.”

“Well, we’re done here.” Dunn tipped his head. “And the captain just went into the bridge.”

Strilath nodded. “We’re gonna go back in and wait for Enif to be done.” 

Luke followed them as they made their way back through the corridor. He felt out of his skin waiting to be done to check on Mara.

“You guys need me?”

Strilath looked in his direction as they ambled down the access corridor to the turbolift. “You have somewhere to be, Stonn?”

He shook his head. “Just feel weird.”

Dunn’s turned to him, eyes landing on him. “Wait, you said you got mugged?” 

Luke raised his hand to the patch at his forehead. He’d forgotten in the chaos.

“Mugged?” Strilath echoed, skepticism in his expression. “Where?”

Luke blew out a breath, he hadn’t expected they grill him on his story already, not with the captain to focus on. He groped for a way to ease their suspicions.

“Stonn?” Dunn prompted as they walked into the turbolift.

“Got...vashed,” he ground out. “Toydarian had...friends.”

“What?” Strilath’s eyes widened. “And you’re still here? Vash will knock you out for nearly a day.”

“I turned, keeled over, didn’t get,” Luke gestured to his face, “all of it. Just wiped me out for a while. Came to and my credits, personal comm, and my blaster were gone.”

He expected the pirates to laugh, but Strilath and Dunn shared an alarmed look. Had he made it _worse_?

“Why didn’t you say so before?” Strilath’s eyes narrowed.

Dunn’s voice and sense was rank with fear. “You think--”

“Has to be. Stonn went off by himself...” Strilath muttered. “Karking Toydarians.” His eyes were flashing when he turned to Luke. “The kriff is wrong with you separating--”

“Why’d they leave you alive?” Dunn interrupted and some dangerous expression passed through Strilath’s face. The turbolift doors opened. Strilath walking out first, suspicion and fear in his sense.

It was a worrisome combination, Luke knew and flipped into a cover story.

“You can’t chalk everything up to the death mark.” The best ones had some grain of truth, he knew. “That’s why I didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want all of you flying off the handle.” 

“But the boss--” Dunn started again from beside Luke.

“Yeah,” Luke interrupted pointedly. “He’s the _boss_. So sure someone went after him, but what happened to me has no connection.”

“We’re already down four men, Stonn,” Strilath grumbled, but his fear had begun to ease up. “And you go and be a moron.”

Dunn nodded. “Five with Mahas,” he put in. 

Anxiety rose up in Stilath’s sense. 

“Maybe something spooked him,” Dunn speculated at they reached the lounge.

“Didn’t seem spooked.” Strilath took up a chair.

“Could have just ditched the job,” Luke suggested.

Both Strilath and Dunn gave him a weird look.

“He _was_ upset over the catfaces,” Dunn put in. "Doesn't mean someone did him in."

Strilath made a face. “Can’t believe the boss wanted us to work beside kriffin’ aliens. I hope he didn’t pay 'em shavit up front because they didn’t even show. That’s damn aliens for you. Never pay an alien for a human’s job.”

Dunn nodded, but that also seemed to flag a bell.

If there was some relation between the captain’s failed assassination attempt, his own mugging, and the Zygerrian’s failure to show, then that was a level more sophisticated than the murders in the ship and Mahas --

But the thought of him only brought up Mara’s bloodied face and her wounded gait, and there it was impossible to _think_ above the boil in his blood and the need to get his balance back...

“Stonn?”

Both Strilath and Dunn were looking at him.

“Like I said,” Luke replied quietly. “Don’t feel well.”

“Can’t blame him at the thought of catfaces,” Dunn joked. “Feel any hives coming on?”

It fell flat. Strilath didn’t laugh.

The door hissed as Enif, Rennek, and Dreiz walked in. “I think we should be set.”

“Did Mahas pick up?” Strilath asked.

Enif shook his head. “He can enjoy his stay at this rock. Fraggin' space ape.”

As if on cue the captain’s voice rang out through the Intercom. “We have the all clear to leave this rock. Everyone to your stations and strap in.”

\--

Mara came out of the ‘fresher feeling marginally centered. The rumble of the repulsors coming on shook the deck, making her stomach tighten. This was it. 

She dug around her satchel for her datapad and sent an update to Karrde, who’d sent a query about changes to the initial timeline. They’d both expected this job to be done earlier than it had. Several meetings had been slotted in her schedule for this week.

Mara went ahead and sent a message to the the Devaronian assistant they’d assigned to her to clear her schedule for the coming week. She was sure the Devaronian would be sideyeing her, but she’d have to deal with it. She wouldn’t have to put up with it for long anyway.

Mara’s eyes landed on her soiled flightsuit once she was done, reminding her that there were still seven pirates left. Her stomach clenched again, and it had nothing to do with the _Jackal’s_ sublight’s coming on.

She hadn’t counted on getting rid of her flightsuit that fast, so she hadn’t packed a spare. She sat on the bunk, one of Skywalker’s towels wrapped around her. She supposed she could grab an extra flightsuit from him as she’d done before.

Mara drew her gaze from flightsuit, fighting off more of that awful coil in her insides.

She could see the stains, knew from what. 

Her face throbbed as she considered it, the whole right side of her body did. If all this churning in her insides wasn’t going soft, she didn’t know what was. She’d done missions where she’d done worse. Ended worse. 

None of them had felt like this.

\--

Much as Luke wanted to leave to his cabin, he’d been forced to stay put after take off as the crew was called to the lounge.

The captain and Bareth were there their presences wafting tension. The captain wore his arm in a sling. Luke realized he hadn’t asked about the details of his attack. 

“I know all this was rushed,” he began gruffly. “So I wanted to fill you all in. You might have already known someone found us.”

There were nods around the room.

“Too much trouble to stay in Drenos. While the bounty hunter didn’t get us, he did get away, and most importantly, sec began nosying."

Grumbling started from among the pirates.

“Yeah, I figured rather than waste credits for a hush up, we haul ass and get on the job.” He passed his eye over his crew. “You’ve all been patient enough. There’ll be a more detailed briefing later when we get in, but I’m sure you all know where we’re going and what we’re gonna do.”

“Pick up cargo,” Dunn said excitedly. “Ryloth.”

The captain nodded. “You’re back with us, Dunn. Good. Yeah, we’re doing another pick up at Ryloth.” He paused. “Boarding.”

Luke glanced at the pirates. Resoluteness seeped out of them.

“Riskier, I know, than a planetside operation, but a couple of months ago we paid for a borer and he’s gonna make this smooth and easy for us.”

Borer? Luke wasn’t sure what that meant and filed that to ask about later.

“Anyway,” the captain raised his chin. “That’s it for now. Good job getting us out of that slumhole. Go get yourselves some slop. We’ll be going into hyperspace in a few hours.”

\--

Mara sat on the bed turning over the next few steps. She’d consulted the datapad and the next jump once they made it should take a little less than a day. That left her less than twenty-four hours to take out seven pirates without Skywalker’s interference. She’d deal with that once she got to it. 

For now, she reflected the larger problem was how long she could keep Skywalker in the dark now that he’d seen what had happened to Mahas. The memories welled up, still raw, and she shoved them aside with a deep breath. 

Focus. 

“Mara?”

She jolted at Skywalker’s face suddenly appearing in her line of vision, blue eyes murky with concern, the skin under them purpling. Her eyes slid up to the wound on his forehead.

_More will hate than love you, but I --_

Mara turned her head to her good side. Skywalker had managed to come in without her sensing him, she thought with dull alarm. Like Crofin had.

Maybe the Force _had_ left her again.

In that case, she needed her focus back all the more. By any means. There was a metallic taste in her mouth. This was her turf. Her ship. Her job. 

“Mara, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” She lowered her head to stare down at her feet, damp hair falling over her face, slightly embarrassed at the state of it even after everything, suddenly aware of how much it hurt. All of her. She’d pull through somehow. There were painkillers in her bag. It was Skywalker that was the real problem.

The look Skywalker had had been the same one he’d worn since he’d found her. Maybe as far back as days ago. His feel through the Force was different. Anxious and...distressed. It took several moments for her to nail it down. He was worried. For her. More so than she’d ever felt him. Her stomach turned in vague panic as it settled what that kind of worry meant. 

She couldn’t leave now. 

Trapped. 

Again.

“Just...tired,” she said softly.

Even if Skywalker let her leave, which she was certain he wouldn’t -- not without her intervention, which was chancy -- he could start piecing together her involvement the second she did, _especially_ if she forced it. No, she needed a distraction, something to keep Skywalker looking elsewhere. A sleight of hand. 

Most of all she needed to be patient, needed for an opportunity to show itself. She’d made too many mistakes rushing into things.

“I should get new clothes,” she murmured. “I’ll take whatever you have for now.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “What happened?” he asked gently.

Risky weaving a falsehood so blatantly, but Skywalker didn’t feel like himself. Perhaps that gave her some margin of error. It was worth the risk. She didn’t have much choice anyway.

“Clar found the engine disabled and had it fixed. I found out through my contacts at the spaceport. Tried to disable it right back. Got careless. Crofin found me. I didn’t get to my blaster on time.” She paused. “It was...,” _messier_ , her mind supplied, “closer than I intended and...” Mara gestured half heartedly to her face. “I...noticed you weren’t here. Did your people arrive?”

“No. They were close, but not in time.”

She stared pointedly at the patch on his forehead. “What happened?”

“I was attacked.”

The dismay she felt at failing to remove him was real enough to project. He’d be safe at Drenos now if it had worked and she wouldn’t have to take risk after risk. “By who?”

He shrugged. “Mugging.”

“You?” All of his scrapes, even the gash pointed to a fall, not a beating, but if it were the latter... there’d be serious consequences for failure to follow instructions.

“Vash,” he said tersely and some of her tension lessened. “They knocked me out, stole my credits, comm and lightsaber.”

Mara cursed softly. “Did they...hurt you?”

He looked at her oddly. “What do you mean?”

A sleight of hand. “Vashings are used for organ stealing -- ”

Skywalker shook his head. “No, no.” He pointed to his face. “This is all I got -- when I dropped. I guess...when they saw who I was either they changed their minds or got scared I’d come to and grab them. They left me at some laneside motel about an hour away.” He made a face. "They were the ones who patched me up."

She felt herself relax a bit and something else popped into her head. “You couldn’t have been under for long.”

“Detox techniques.”

She filed that away wishing she’d known. “Handy.”

“When I came to, they were gone.”

Silence fell.

“Anyway stay and rest.”

Mara nodded heavily. 

He felt as if he were weighing what he was going to say. “Do you want to work on healing?”

She shook her head resolutely. Just the thought of using the Force now made her like she’d be begging through a closed door. To hell with that.

He sighed softly. “There’s no need to stay hurt.”

Mara clenched her teeth, even that motion hurt. They were in close quarters again, to alienate Skywalker here and now would only incite his suspicions. Her story was not as tight as it could be.

She mulled it over. Relenting too easily would likewise stand out.

“Fine. You do it.” Even with calculation behind it, it felt like a concession. It still smarted more than all her cuts to bite out a curt, “Please.” She closed her eyes. Like all things, if it hurt, she was probably doing it right. 

She heard him walk towards her, felt as he crouched down in front of her, prompting deja vu. It had been like this a week ago with that gash at her knee. She’d shown him her scar and whatever he’d been thinking, he still hadn’t _seen_. That he was here with her was proof enough.

Mara lifted her ankle and his hand curved up her heel a prickle and warmth spreading through her skin. Every part of her wanted to dart away.

When he was done, she shifted the towel so that the fold was towards her hip, and she could push it aside while remaining semi covered. Mara pulled a bit of the towel exposing the reddened inflamed skin from when she’d slammed into the floor. Skywalker’s eyes lifted to the area, and he inhaled sharply just a second, a brief burst of...something before it crumpled away like a wrapper, dissolving into that anxiety that had been steadily thrumming since he’d found her at the engine room.

She blinked. Rage. That had been rage.

Skywalker hesitated -- as if he were asking for permission.

Mara nodded, keeping her face lowered still half hidden by her hair. He inched his hand over her outer hip.

She narrowly kept herself from tensing. She’d never wanted to be outside of herself this much. Celina Marniss, Chiara Lorn, or Arica Pradeux, Merellis, she hated them all. She wanted to be someone different. New. 

“Tell me something.” She almost winced, but that made her face hurt more. Just stop talking. Stop talking.

Skywalker lifted his head. She liked not one iota of that look and she turned her head away. She wanted to stop thinking, stop remembering screaming and recoil, yielding flesh, blood splattering on walls, her boots slipping on it -- 

“It doesn’t matter what,” she blurted out. If she didn’t distract herself speaking she was sure it’d seep out of her shields. All the ugliness, it was there, right beneath the wounds. A whole universe of it.

_I’m afraid more will hate than love you, but I--_

“Anything.” Her voice was thick in her ears. 

How could she have ever thought --

“Something boring.” The minute the request left her lips, she regretted it. What a moronic thing to say. 

Skywalker was silent for a few moments when all she felt was the faint touch of his fingertips on her hip, the flow of the Force through bruised, torn skin. 

Maybe he hadn’t heard her. She should have said nothing. Anywhere but here. Anywhere. 

Karrde had given her an out. 

She shut her eyes tightly. “Neverm--”

“Did it rain? he began hesitantly. “When you were at Tatooine? I suppose not,” he said suddenly. “It’s rare.”

“It rains?” she asked, confused.

“Very rarely, but it happens. Some cloud just wanders over and it rains. The water evaporates before hitting the ground,” he replied without looking away from the wound. “It’s enough of a rarity to be an event. I learned there was a specific name for it later,” he added offhandedly. “Ghost rain.”

An image of a near endless stretch of reddish sand came into her mind. She raised her head, a solitary shadow overhead. 

“Back home people just called it rain.” He stood and leaned forward, moved his hand up to her swollen shoulder, the image losing a bit of its immediacy, but Skywalker was still talking. "It's the only rain we knew."

“The suns were always out, so the light would catch from the drops.” The scene sharpened once more, she could see it clearly in her mind’s eye, colors refracted by the light through the droplets. 

Half remembered sensation came along with it, the feeling of soft droplets of water, misting down her face. An almost uncontrollable urge to fly, to go wherever, anywhere else, wherever the rain came from, wherever it went. But her feet remained dry.

That felt...uncomfortably raw, something catching in her throat. Why had she gotten that image? Those feelings? Why so clearly?

Mara gasped, jerking away and wincing as pain flowered at the sudden movement, eyes darting towards Skywalker, heart about to pound clean out of her throat. “The bond.”

\--

Luke backed away instantly as Mara’s entire demeanor switched from despairing to terrified.

“It’s not up,” Luke assured her quickly, lifting his hands. “It isn’t up, Mara. It isn't up.”

“Then what did I feel just now?” she croaked still wide-eyed, as if she were to scramble away at any instant.

“It’s possible,” he began cautiously. “While I’m healing you, you can...pick up on my memories.” That hadn’t happened, shouldn’t have happened. His shielding...He’d go through that later. “It’s not the bond. It wouldn’t take without you pulling your end up.” He made his voice firm. “It wouldn’t.”

She closed her eyes.

The reason for her reaction fell into place, dull and horrible. “You didn’t think...I would...”

Her eyes opened, but he looked away. How could she think that? It was as if they were strangers, as if she saw him as a stranger.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t know,” she blurted out.“About me, especially.” She met his eyes and gave a small shrug, grimacing. He hadn’t quite finished healing it.

She sat up, pulling her towel tighter around her. His eyes fell to her other shoulder, the unhurt one, except for a burn blister in a distinct shape. Blaster bolt burn, a singe from an indirect shot.

“He shot at you.” In his mind’s eye he could see the events unfold. Mahas pointing the gun, Mara sidestepping out of the way to get grazed, kicking the gun away, and Mahas grabbing her by the crown braid, his fist raised --

“He’s _dead_.” Mara’s voice interrupted harshly. “Hey. He’s dead, Skywalker.”

Luke blinked, feeling the tension in his muscles, forcing them loose again. 

He whispered, “You shouldn’t have come back.”

Her head was bent, shoulders slumping. “Sorry to inconvenience you.”

Luke stayed quiet several beats. Finally he gave in, letting himself voice the thought. “You’re looking for ways to hurt yourself.”

Mara’s eyes flashed and she straightened up. “That’s what you think this is?”

Luke nodded slowly.

“You think I let Crofin find me?” she hissed. “That I _let_ him do this to me? I would never--”

“I don’t know, Mara,” he cut her off resignedly. “I know you play things like the hard way’s all there is. Like it’s about getting things done the most painful, unpleasant way possible.”

When she looked away, he couldn’t but take it as confirmation. “I don’t see it like that.”

“How do you see it?”

“Like it is.”

He tsk’ed in frustration. Same dead end logic. 

Mara turned back to him. “I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t belong here--”

“Neither do you.” He might have been taken by surprise by her resignation to the worst, but not anymore. “ _No one_ does. This isn’t some hidden reality under it all, Mara. This where things have gone _wrong_. Don’t talk about it like it’s _normal_. It’s not. Accepting it makes it worse. Accepting it makes it continue.”

She stayed silent for a moment. He could only hope he was reaching her, but how many times had he thought that only to have her pull back? 

He had to keep trying. Time, all he needed was time. And fresh air, he thought. He could feel the poisoned atmosphere seeping into both of them.

“I can try to kick us out of hyperspace and we can get the firegems out the airlock. If I go now--”

He ground his teeth. She was _hurt_ and still... “Like this? No.” 

“We’re running out of time. Maybe...if we take the captain out?”

Luke had stopped listening to her and shook his head. “Right now you need to rest. You were just _attacked_. It doesn’t even make sense--”

She leaned forward. “There’s no better time. They won’t even be expecting--” 

\--

“ _Again_?” Skywalker threw his hands up, beginning to pace even in the narrow space. “It’s common sense. You’re barely standing.”

She shifted back uncomfortably, eyes roaming around the room. The last she wanted was Skywalker giving her a detailed analysis on her state. “They’re going to attack a refugee ship, Skywalker. I overheard the captain when he got on. Any more time and we’re _risking_ giving them hundreds more hostages. Is that the risk you want? I don’t.”

“A refugee ship?”

She nodded. “A capital ship full of them. They have to have a man inside. Some contact. It’s probably in the datacards you have -- you sent the information to Coruscant, right?” Skywalker nodded and she breathed out. “So at least they should know. But by the time they get here it’ll be too late.”

Skywalker appeared to think back. “They talked about a borer.”

“That’s it. A saboteur.” Dangerous mentioning this again, but she had to try. “It could be a matter of taking the captain out. He’s got to be the one with the detonator. Eliminate him and we have nothing to risk anymore.”

“To go in and _kill_ him.” He shook his head grimly. “Even if we were to do that, killing the captain will only mean killing the rest of the crew.”

“Not necessarily. They could give up. Maybe all you’d have to do is show them who you are.”

Skywalker flashed her a look dripping with skepticism.

She tilted her head, tamping down on a humorless laugh. “It’s a possibility.”

“No matter what you think of me, I’m not that naive.”

“And even if we had to kill him,” she followed his lead in dispensing with the euphemisms, “and the rest of the crew, it’d be self defense. They wouldn’t offer _us_ mercy.”

He shook his head again. “There’s got to be another way.”

“Because you value their lives--”

“Because it’s _risky_ ,” he corrected impatiently. “You don’t even know whether the captain has the detonator. He could just easily have given it to Bareth. Or it could be a combination that Strilath and Enif know. One wrong choice, playing it too close, and it’s over. It’s not worth that.There’s another way. We just have to find it. We still have some time before we come out of hyperspace. It’s not do or die, Mara.”

Mara swallowed her objection. That was that then. She was on her own. Nothing had changed.

“Just rest for now. It’ll be simple enough to strand the ship before they reach their target. They won’t have any hostages and it’ll be a security situation that NR sec can deal with. But that’s all for later. You can't do much hurt and tired.”

At much as she loathed it, he was right. She clenched her hands beside her, once, twice, and breathed out. “Okay.”

Skywalker gestured towards her face. “Can I...? “

She nodded.

Skywalker’s hand tentatively lifted to the mess that was the side of her face and she closed her eyes, torn between staying still and turning away. Logic won out and she felt the flow of the Force gather under his palm, a gentle warmth against her cheek.

She felt him withdraw his hand. Mara lifted hers gingerly to her face, her skin smooth to the touch, as if nothing had happened; the throbbing was gone. Skywalker’s eyes were on her all the while, and she knew he wasn’t thinking about the pirates at all.

_Fix me up nice and pretty._

Loneliness was a terrible, blinding thing.

She should know.

“I’ll take the floor,” Skywalker said, breaking off his gaze.

“I appreciate the gentlemanly sentiment--”

“Gentlemanliness has nothing to do with it.” He turned towards one of the storage compartments. “The healing helps with recovery, but you’re not completely back to yourself. Just stay there.”

Mara lay down and turned towards the wall beside the bunk, feeling her eyelids grow heavier, her whole body felt weighed down. Tomorrow it’d be all over, one way or another. And after, it’d be as if she’d never existed. That would be better. She wouldn't do this again. 

She’d lost her edge. 

But she always finished what she started. One way or another. 

“Okay.”

“Here.” She opened her eyes and turned to lie on her back. Skywalker was offering her a shirt.

“You can’t sleep in a towel.”

Mara met his eyes and pulled on a faint smile. “You’re going to run out of clothing at this rate.”

One way or another, she always finished things. 

Skywalker only shrugged. “You keep losing yours.”

“Thanks.” She pulled it on as he slid away to sit on the floor again. 

“Hey,” Mara called out before she could think about it. “I--I sometimes get tunnel vision. I…” She let her voice die out, not really knowing where she was going with it. 

Because she wasn’t sorry. She wasn’t. Not for this job, not for the others before it during her years fighting to survive, and before that...well, he was hardly the person to apologize to. No one could absolve her. There was no point to even _being_ sorry. It was better to know, she could spare some gratitude for that. Always better to know. At least that was real.

But there was something she owed Skywalker that mere gratitude couldn’t cover either. Or not owe. She was fumbling over something inexpressible about their connection, about the way her life had changed when she wasn’t able to blast him out of existence at Jabba’s, when she couldn’t again at Myrkr, when he’d made her naive promises at Wayland; about the haunting feeling she got when she held his lightsaber that she never wanted to think about, yet another roachrat skulking around the dark crevices of her mind, the dilapidated ruins of it.

All she wanted was a way back to even ground.

And she should say something before she left him behind, she _wanted_ to say something, but nothing came. Even the impulse died away, faded into nothingness.

“Just rest,” he said after a moment. “It’s okay.”

She furrowed her brow at the ceiling, thinking of course it was. No matter what. You pick up and go on. She’d done that too many times to count.

It was always okay. It was always fine. Mara curled on her side.

Even when it wasn’t.


	18. Inattentional Blindness

_Say what I won't say, but I'm thinking_   
_Say you think I traded love for demons_ [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jDMnGVbZ8Mk)]  


  


  


Luke meditated for an hour and when he came out of it, Mara was curled on her side, breathing even and soft, but still audible over the hum of the environment controls. He went and showered, pondering over whether to heal the effects of the vashing. It would attract undue attention, so he decided against it. When he came out Mara hadn’t so much as moved, something he’d found odd. She was usually a very light sleeper. 

When he laid down to sleep, he did so fitfully, like he rarely did, vague images of the desert, of blood and crying, and the claustrophobic press of walls. Several hours later, he gave up on sleep and sat up on on the floor staring up to the bunk towards where Mara lay.

She’d shifted to lie on her stomach, her head cushioned on her arm. He meant to continue meditating, but she was there, the thrum of her Force presence in his awareness. He’d feared...

He’d thought...

 _Risk isn’t cheap_.

Luke closed his eyes.

It took a few minutes to sort through the anger, but peace, some measure of it, returned. He was able to think through what it meant to have lived bereft of resources. Back at home, it’d been near enough, an aura of quiet desperation simmering underneath the surface.

Luke thought he understood it at last why he needed to keep extending his hand to her. Even if she pushed him away. However many times she pushed him away.

It was because she _knew_. Mara knew what it meant to be moved by forces outside of her control, a twist of destiny, and everything changed, until there was only the loneliness, the smallness of it in the face of fate. 

He understood it now why he’d been moved to give her his old lightsaber. Back then it had been nothing he could have put to words. Hadn't it been a defiant gesture on his part? Exerting some measure of will by offering to link his fate to hers, a brash decision, given what she’d lived through, but she’d accepted it. 

He had to believe that offer meant something, the seed of some connection between them. He wanted it to so badly, he could feel it slipping through his fingers, vanishing into thin air.

Back when his own world had turned upside down there’d been Leia, Chewie, and Lando and just their presences had mattered, even if he hadn’t thought they could understand. 

Who did Mara have?

He stayed sitting, not meditating, his thoughts moving restlessly. The ship trembled and lurched forward, that familiar twist in his stomach as they went into hyperspace.

Mara must not have been sleeping that deeply then because she shifted with a soft exhale, her eyes fluttering open.

Luke let her orient herself, half expecting her to jerk up in combat readiness like she’d done the first time. 

“They went into hyperspace?” she asked groggily, not sitting up.

Luke nodded. 

“It’s about a half day to Ryloth,” she mused.

He didn’t care about that at the moment. He probed lightly; she didn’t seem to be in pain, and he asked, “How do you feel?”

Mara sat up to turn on the cabin lights in their dimmest setting. Her eyes focused on him hazily. “Better.”

He would have sat on the bunk, but it was too narrow for two people to sit side to side with any semblance of space. “The ankle too?”

She rotated it. “It’s good.” Silence fell awkwardly between them and she pushed some errant strands of her hair back. He wanted to broach so many things, but now that she was awake he didn’t even know where to begin -- much less if she’d be receptive. “And the rest?”

“Fine.”

He wasn’t going to be taken in by that. “Is that true?”

Mara looked up at him. “It will be.”

That would have satisfied him before. “That’s not enough.”

“Isn’t it?” Her gaze grew distant before flicking back over to him. She smiled one of those edged smiles, more facade. “You don’t have to worry so much, Skywalker. Really.”

As he watched though, her eyes glimmered in the low lights. She shifted her gaze away. 

“You should sit.” Mara rubbed at her face. “This is your bunk anyway.” She looked towards the foot of the bunk. “I should have taken the floor. You did a good job patching me up.”

“Mara--”

“This is all my fault anyway,” she said flatly. She waited a few beats. The words came out reluctantly, “All of it. I didn’t...I wasn’t thinking and now you’re all caught up in it.”

His brows furrowed, he fought the impulse to go squeeze in next to her. “I was here from the start.”

Mara turned to face him, eyes lifting to his. “I made it worse.”

That was true. “Yes.”

She flinched, but continued, “I was so good at things like this.” She went back to staring in front of her. “You know, like a puzzle. You just had to figure out where everything fit.”

Luke drew in a breath. She had to be more receptive now. Had to be. “I don’t think it has anything to do with your skills. I...I don’t think you’re thinking clearly.”

She nodded slowly and he felt himself relax a little. “Maybe you’re right." She pulled her knees to her chest, arms encircling them, and he was transported back to Wayland. “But this is what I’m good at, I shouldn't have to think. Don’t want to.” 

That was as much confirmation as any. Not that he’d doubted from the minute her face had gone expressionless when they’d been on the Headhunter.

“I thought it was coming back,” she whispered suddenly. “The command. When Sauminn died. I wanted to be afraid. I was afraid, but I...I...” She lowered her head to her knees, hair falling in front of her face.

Something caught in his throat. 

“Name it,” he told her over it. He went over and did take a spot beside her. He made his voice stronger. “Put it to words. Take its power away.”

Mara stayed utterly silent. 

“It’ll fester if you don’t.”

“Sometimes I want it back.” Mara blurted out and gasped loudly, bending forward as if receiving a blow. “Oh--”

“Let it go.”

“That’s horrible.” She shut her eyes tightly. “How--how--I can’t--”

“Let it go, Mara.”

Words fell from her in an outpour. “It’s worse to say it out loud. It has nothing to do with you--”

“I know.” Luke kept his tone measured, as if there wasn’t constriction right behind his sternum. “You have to let it go.”

And still more words. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t--that’s--that’s not--”

“Let it go.”

“It just left me with nothing.”

“That’s not true. Let it go.”

She didn’t move. “I can’t be what you want.”

“This isn’t about what I want,” he insisted, exasperation surfacing at how she’d managed to turn things around again. Did she even know what she was doing? “No matter what you said.” 

Her voice became hushed. “I shouldn’t have --”

“I meant it. I still do. Your talents are yours. They should be _yours_. No ghosts should keep you from them. It doesn’t make you weak or lacking if I help you.” He set his jaw. “Just the opposite. But you need to start by letting the anger go.”

“There’s no point to being angry,” she said thickly, shoulders slightly hunched forward. “He’s dead.”

“It’s not Palpatine you’re angry at.”

She stayed quiet for a long moment neither conceding nor refuting the statement, he noted. “Why does it matter to you so much?”

“You can’t consider the fact that someone might want to help?” Luke paused, always caught off guard by how she thought of things. “What about Karrde? What about...” He stumbled, calling back the name. “Drig.”

“Drig wanted me to be his waitress. I’m Karrde’s second. Everyone always wants something.”

Luke’s stomach sank. She was wrong again, but even if she wasn’t -- how to explain not wanting to walk on by while someone drowned?

“It’s...mixed up for me. With you. That's...that’s why I don't trust it.”

He blinked, not knowing what she meant.

Her voice was soft when she spoke again after several beats of silence. “It was there even before. I used to tell myself, that I--I had my duty.” The words lingered in the air. “It doesn’t help as much as you want it to. When it’s quiet.” 

“But I could ignore it more then.” She rubbed the pad of her thumb over her nails of her other fingers. “I was better at that too.”

“Mara.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know anything anymore. But that’s the one constant. Feeling like there’s all this...empty space. But now there’s...you.” Her fingers curled slightly. “It’s because there’s something wrong. In me. I don’t trust it.”

Something inside him wrenched and _hurt_.

It felt like a shadow of what it was after he’d found her in the fresher, her hand clutching desperately at his flightsuit. 

As it were years ago, him staring up at the sky from the Bakur complex, wondering if once there were no wars or battles, there’d be nothing. Only emptiness. That had felt near a lifetime ago and yet ...

Luke settled closer beside her, edge of his shoulder against hers. 

“I can’t be what you want.” Mara stared at her hands. “I can’t.”

Could it be that she wanted to, for all her protests? “I don’t want you to be anything.”

“You want to train me.”

“Whatever you want to call it -- those gifts are yours. You’re not...you without them. It’s a part of you that’s been blocked off, but it shouldn’t be like that. It’ll feel different when it isn’t when you can trust it--”

Her gaze shuttered. Luke touched her hand tentatively but she didn’t pull away. “Mara--”

“It’s not me. I don’t want it to be. I don’t want any of this to be me.”

“Why? It doesn’t make you weak.” He wove the fingers of his free hand between hers. “I want to help you.” It was worth repeating. “I’d never hurt you.”

She didn't look up from her hands. “I know.” 

It was against every self preservation instinct she’d honed to be vulnerable again, but if she could take that step, everything could change, he was sure of it.

Mara leaned against him gently touching her temple against his, hair still damp, and he could feel her so close, not just beside him, her shoulder against his, but _reachable_. She wanted to be reached.

Could it be the beginning of something? He couldn’t help thinking he was seeing some change in her, some transformation that began since Wayland, painful, but it didn’t have to be _just_ that. It could be beautiful too.

Luke leaned forward and kissed her, a small, fleeting press of his lips at the side of her head, dared to think, I could be good for you.

He pulled away quickly just as surprised flickered through her sense, letting his arms fall from her, catching himself with stricken dismay.

This was definitely overstepping. 

“Mara, I--” He broke off as her expression shadowed even more, and it couldn’t be that he’d been so close to some sort of progress, only to have ruined it at the last minute. It couldn't. 

“It’s fine,” she murmured. 

“It’s not,” inwardly cringing, Luke went on in a rush. He didn’t even understand why he'd acted so rashly. All he could think about was salvaging things. “I’m sorry. Helping you get your footing with your abilities is the most important thing, I don’t want any other,” he rummaged through his mind for the word, “noise to get in the way.” 

“Noise,” she repeated, raising her head. “What’s between us is noise.”

He nodded, taken back to that time in his cabin, her hands by her ear as she pushed his hair back. She’d gone from that to utter blankness too.

“Isn’t it?” Luke felt his insides twist in worry. He’d been so close to reaching her now as in then. “I just thought -- I’ve always thought,” he clumsily voiced the thought, “that since it’s me -- you wouldn’t -- not like this. I don’t -- I don’t want to hurt things between us in any way. You’re too important...” 

“Special,” she whispered and he sensed her miles and miles away.

“Yes.” He stared at her and reached to squeeze her hands, trying to draw her back. “Special.”

Luke felt the ache that followed, the way it seeped through her shields.

“I don’t want anything from you.” He took a chance and leaned close. “Just to help you. Nothing more.”

She faced him, her eyes searching his. Her gaze landed on their hands. “And this?”

“I...I can put it aside.” He slid his hands away. “I can. I -- I wasn’t thinking. I--” He could, as much as he felt the draw of desire towards her, there was something _else_ that didn’t correspond to it, a vague outline of something momentous. What it was and where it came from, he didn’t know, but it called to him in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d looked up as a boy to the distant stars. He could focus on that. It was better to focus on that.

“For training.” Mara’s voice drew him from his thoughts.

Luke nodded, feeling sheepish. In the ugly situation they were in, it was no wonder he’d turn to nostalgia. All of that was too vague to matter right now. It’d be easier to get his bearings once they were off the ship. 

“That’s important," he said. "This is just...”

Her eyes found his again. “Just...?”

He felt himself teetering, at a loss. “What do you want, Mara?”

Her fingers tightened along his and she leaned forward slightly, muted desperation in her eyes.

“I want a way out.”

That worked for some, he supposed. It wouldn’t for her. She was confusing things.

“This isn’t it,” he said very gently. “Once we go back we can --”

“What is it then?” Her hold on him didn’t lessen. “This.”

Luke stopped. “...Distraction maybe.”

Her face took on a pained expression and she pulled her hand away. “You’re right. You’re right.”

Shame clung to her. He didn’t want that for her either and reached for her hand.

“I didn’t say it’d be wrong. Just that it wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t be what you need.”

She closed her eyes and nodded, pulling her hands away. The wrenching feeling got worse. Would it be so bad to give themselves this, especially now? It didn’t even have to go far as all that.

“Mara.” She stared at him long enough that he leaned forward, bringing a hand just under her jaw, sliding his lips more fully over hers. Mara’s lips were dry and warm, and he lifted the hand to just over her ear, stroking a path down to her neck.

She met his eyes, and all he could sense was her pain. “I know it won’t change anything -- ” 

“It won’t," he echoed as she crossed the small inches between them with a kiss and another. 

“I’m fine with that."

“I...I...don’t want.” Words kept coming to him, incongruously, half phrases between kisses. “to...remind you of...bad memories...” Finally he let them go, reducing to the pounding of his heart and a fierce ache for her. 

“You don't.” Mara's fingers playing along his arm. It could have been seconds or an hour later; he’d forgotten what she’d been responding to. He only thought he could kiss her forever. He hadn’t known _how much_ he’d wanted until now. At some point, she’d slid onto his lap, straddling him, between that and her mouthing kisses up his neck, arousal lanced through him. With it came a pinprick of warning. He needed to keep this within bounds.

He could, he thought as Mara grasped his hands, pulling them under the shirt she had on --his shirt-- his fingers grazing upon skin and more skin. He broke away with a gasp, more warning blaring at him.

Mara must have noticed because she froze. “It’s okay.” She held his hands against her skin, not moving them. “It’s okay. It won’t change anything at all.”

His eyes scanned up to her, finding the blush on her face, the fullness of her lips, and he was sliding his palms up from her midriff. Much as he loved the feel of her skin, he loved more how she shifted restlessly, breathing slightly faster. His pants felt a bit too tight. 

Luke put that out of his mind as she arched her back slightly when his palms reached her breasts, her hips grinding down, making him inhale sharply. 

Her eyes focused on him and she smiled. “You want to take off your pants?” 

He did. Very much, but...

The smile faded from her face. “What is it?”

“A little fast,” Luke admitted, pulling his hands away.

She turned her head as if working it out. “You don’t want to?”

“I do but--”

She nodded. “This is the wrong place.”

He nodded back effusively, relieved she seemed to understand. 

“Okay. You want to...stop?”

Luke brought his hand to her hip. “No, this is fine. It’s good.” Not the smoothest thing he could have said, but he’d moved the hand from her hip to her back lightly tracing her spine under the shirt and that drew more of his attention. She'd tilted her head, and he was leaning to brush his lips along her neck, a little more restraint crumbling when she whimpered and squirmed. His palms stroked along her belly with less hesitancy, slid over her breasts, kneading lightly. Mara arched her back, eyes falling closed and wanting her right now felt like something different, headier.

“I -- I,” she panted as he scratched his teeth lightly against her throat, “want to get rid -- ah -- of the shirt.”

Luke gave her a bit of space to pull it over her head, and she was naked, astride him. The air changed in that moment as his eyes roamed over her exposed skin and up to her face, an uncommonly fragile expression there. She was captivating, all that veneer of aloofness shunted aside. He was holding his breath. Everything could be so different.

“What is it?” she whispered.

It had to be the beginning of something.

He shook his head, lifting a hand to curve it by her cheek. It could have been him, haunted and wounded, just as easily, wanting for things he’d never known. A twist of fate. That was all.

“Skywalker.”

“Luke,” he corrected. “I keep telling you.” 

Before she could respond, he’d swept her into a kiss that turned increasingly sloppy, his hand tangled up in her hair. He thought he couldn’t let her go, and and in one second of utter madness, it occurred to him that if indeed it had been the worst, he could have taken the whole of this cursed ship apart inch by bloody inch with with his bare hands. Even that wouldn’t have sufficed.

Luke stilled and broke away, aware of their harsh breaths in the relative silence of the room. 

“Skywa--Luke?”

He gave into the impulse to laugh quietly, drawn back from whatever that was -- something that still needed to be wrenched into order, at any rate. 

Mara was looking at him in confusion and the dark thought was receding already. Concern was sneaking up on her face, and he looked for something trivial.

“I miss the red.” He pushed a loose strand of her hair over her ear.

She rolled her eyes. “Again with the hair?”

He dropped a hand to her shoulder and slid it down her torso. She arched into the caress in a way that made him want to do it again, so he did. It was maddening, an exercise in frustration, and he still wanted to do it again. 

“Maybe it’s like you said. Just used to it.” He cupped her neck and drew his hand down over her collarbone and over her breast, watching her twist in a way that made him hiss in a breath. 

She surprised him by chuckling. “If you want hostility for old times’ sake, all you need to do is ask.”

“This is good,” he murmured, having more than a little trouble following the conversation over so much of her on display like that, over her responsiveness to his touch, the sinuous way she moved on his lap. “Perfect.”

Mara ducked her hands under his shirt, they moved past his stomach to his chest, his shirt bunching up until he drew it over his head. Then it was her skin against his. Her fingers traced his ribs as her mouth found his again. From a distance, he recognized a sense of precariousness. But Mara broke the kiss, panting, moaned when he nipped at her pulse point, and there was just the here and now.

“I want," she gasped. "I want...” 

She whimpered again and it was the easiest thing in the world to lower a hand to her hip, fingers tracing over her hip bone, to trail those fingers along her inner thigh and hear her breath catch and grow harsher still, as harsh as his. For a while he stroked along her thigh lazily. Mara had gone silent, save for her breathing, eyes scrunched shut.

A twinge of unease nagged at him.

“Mara.” 

A bright sheen was in her eyes when they opened. “You want...you want...to stop?” 

His breath caught. No, he certainly didn’t. He shook his head.

She smiled. “Good. You can...if you want to...” He felt the shiver in her as he slid a hand up between her legs. The flood of arousal it set off within him caught him unaware, the way his hips jerked, his pulse drumming at his ears. The brush of her thigh against his cock had begun to border painful.

Mara gasped at the contact, light as it was, hips pushing against his hand, he couldn’t help but think of being inside her, and there was no forethought at all to the slide of his fingers into her. The tight clench of her inner walls coalesced into the thought of how _good_ it would feel, and robbed him of breath, made his pulse crash faster and faster against his ears. 

Luke stared up at her, face flushed, mouth slightly parted, eyes closed, gorgeously arching on his lap and wanted to keep her so much it coiled inside him, hard and unmovable like a fetter. He didn’t want to stop at all. Couldn’t.

Her lips formed half panted words, “It’s good...” She lifted her hips slightly, taking his fingers deeper and he could barely breathe over the shock of arousal.

“You,” she gasped, “make me...feel...like this.”

His mouth worked several times before he could form the word. “How?”

He felt hypnotized by the curve of her neck, the suppleness of her skin, the slick tightness of her around his fingers.

“Everything...is...off-kilter.”

He understood, maybe. He felt a little like that too, and gently angled his hand, thumb sliding over her clit. Her cry streaked down his spine.

“I want you to fuck me,” she moaned, her hands at his shoulders. “Oh.”

He breathed in, feeling lightheaded. 

“‘S okay if...you don’t...if you..you don’t...oh. I do...I just...there,” she grunted, face drawn, and he could feel it in the way she clamped around his fingers. She was close. “there-there-there...oh...it’s okay...if you don’t...it’s okay...s’okay...” 

He stared, enthralled, as she strained, gasping, for her climax, feeling half out of his mind for it himself.

Something was off though, Mara quieted as if the feeling had ebbed, and before he knew it he was sliding his fingers out and was pushing her over and onto her back. There was no forethought either to sliding down her body, burying his head between her legs, just a compulsion to work her back up to desperation, to taste her urgency, unravel her like a mystery. 

Her cry transformed into a throaty moan when he’d eased his fingers in again, lapping at her until a choked cry left her, continued the slick press of his fingers, feeling the shake of her body through the aftershocks. This was not what she needed, he thought drawing away, but she’d been alone for so long... 

Luke dared a tentative stretch to her with the Force. Her shielding was locked as usual, which was disappointing, but not unexpected and he wiped his face, wrapping his arms around her waist. He brushed a kiss just under her navel, heartbeat loud in his ears. It was something when there'd been nothing. For now, it would suffice.

\--

Mara felt pleasure addled, there but not, soothing numbness spread, the quiet of an event horizon. That had been... unexpected. The memory of Skywalker’s lightsaber in the spaceport locker flitted through her mind. There was a feeling like that moment unfurling. She put a stop to it.

She still couldn't afford to let Skywalker reflect. Mara tugged at his shoulders and Skywalker moved up, as if he had no choice but to seize her face and slant his mouth over hers hips jolting against her.The taste of herself on his tongue was a vivid reminder of his mouth between her legs scarcely minutes ago. Arousal snapped back into her, heightened by the near clumsy jerk of his hips against her, more than a tinge of desperation in it.

Good. She bent her leg at the knee and would have flipped them, except the damn bunk was too narrow. She only ended up knocking Skywalker lightly against the wall.

“Ow.” He winced, bringing a hand to the back of his head.

Mara cursed. “Sorry, sorry.” She curled up on her side, lifting her head, which he’d taken as an opportunity to get at her neck. “You okay?” 

“Mm-hm.” The words came out half muffled, hands at her waist, touch inelegant and grasping. It seemed the mishap had done nothing to lessen his enthusiasm.

Mara scooted closer draping a leg over his hip. “This bunk’s too damn narrow,” she muttered as he tongued the hollow of her throat, his hand sliding over the round of her ass and pulling her closer. Little by little, she managed to scoot them so Skywalker was on his back and she could climb over him, run her lips across his collarbones, down his chest. 

When she came back up, their kiss had no finesse whatsoever, especially in counterpoint to the movement of their bodies. Something trembled within her, thin like a distant echo. She didn't need to keep going, did she? But she snaked a hand down his stomach. She wanted to.

Would he stop her? He’d seemed reluctant before. Whether he would was immaterial at this point. Mara stopped when she got to the waistband of his sleep pants and raised her head. “I want -- “

He stared up at her, eyes dark, color across his face. “Yeah.”

She slid a leg to the side, half leaning off him so he could shift, kicking off his remaining clothes. He groaned as she grasped his cock, drawing him into her. His mouth formed a gasp, palms drifting over her breasts as she raised and lowered her hips. She tried to ignore the feeling of wrongness peeking in in favor of the way his eyes latched onto her. 

“You’ve thought of me?” she breathed. “Like this?”

Skywalker nodded. His hands fell to her hips, but he didn’t push or pull her to a faster rhythm. “Yes.” 

The feeling returned, a sickening twist of her stomach. Mara shut her eyes tight, willing the feeling away. She’d been fine just a few minutes ago, mindless of anything save Skywalker's mouth between her legs, his fingers fucking into her. This should be easier, but behind her eyelids, blood dripped down the bulkhead, pooled by her feet. She opened her eyes, finding that Skywalker’s gaze had sharpened slightly, some of the haze lifting. That didn’t help. 

Mara blew out a breath and stilled. She pushed her hair back.

A beat then right on cue: “Mara?”

Skywalker quickly withdrew his hands and went up on his forearms. “We really we don’t have to.” His eyes cleared a little more, concern filtering in. 

Kriff. 

“It might be too much.” 

Kriff. 

“Today...”

Where was that blankness?

“No, I want to. I do.” Mara swallowed. “I do. This...it’s good.”

He tilted his head, staring at her.

Mara moved off him, but there was no space to go anywhere. She sat on the edge, half off the bunk. She heard Skywalker turn on his side to give her room to sit completely, but she didn’t move or look at him. The right card to play surfaced. 

“Don’t let me twist your arm, Skywalker," she muttered under her breath. "I don’t need your pity.”

Skywalker placed a hand on her arm, sitting up and in the next moment she was leaning forward to kiss him hungrily, because wanting him had been something she hadn’t been able to shake, a flaw in the system. That was true. Managing weaknesses though, was all a matter of leveraging your strengths.

“If _you_ don’t want to,” she murmured, after breaking the kiss. “Then don’t.” She shifted her gaze to the door of the cabin, lifted them to the vent above the desk. 

There was enough answer in how Skywalker’s hand fell just under her jaw. “You always,” he said, trailing kisses down her neck, “turn it around.”

She fought the impulse to laugh at him trying to argue with her now. “I don’t.” She pulled his mouth back on hers in a hard kiss. “Just know what I want.”

Her hips tilted, heat spreading at the answering neediness in his kiss, the glide of his fingertips over her skin. The caress turned to his grasp of her thigh, and they moved awkwardly until she was pulling him over her, her legs sliding out to accommodate him between them. 

She couldn’t claim she was much experienced in this sort of thing. For as long as it mattered, her life was about survival and vengeance. There really wasn’t much time for distractions, they make you careless, dead. And before...

Mara blinked off the phantom weight of the hydrospanner in her hand. She didn’t want to think of vengeance or survival. She threaded her fingers in Skywalker's hair, inhaled the scent of him, grounding like nothing else had been for longer than she cared to remember. He pulled back, his hand now between her legs, drawing out an instinctive twitch of her hips. The caress was gone as he scooted forward and eased inside her again. 

But when he leaned forward to kiss her, her thoughts slammed against the bulkhead, the hydrospanner back in her hands...He thrust again and it was fine -- she raised her hands to his shoulders trying to focus on the wash of his breath at her neck, the pleasure of him within her, but couldn’t shake the feeling of metal against her palms, her arm flying from the swing, and crushing _impact_.

Skywalker stopped.

Mara looped her arms around his neck when he tried to pull away. She _had_ to make this work. The more time Skywalker spent between her legs the less time he had to put the pieces together.

“I don’t want to think,” she whispered raggedly, the ache of it bright, near endless. “Feeling...like all I do...It shouldn't feel like failing...I don’t...” 

“You’re not--”

Mara pressed her lips against his, silencing him. Meeting his eyes meant confronting his concern when she’d rather the uncomplicated dark of his pupils, but she did it anyway. She’d once thought she was too good for this. This was for court drivel, never for her. 

Maybe it was just that the right target hadn’t come along. She’d been young.

“Just right now...I just...” Her hands stroked up his nape. “I just thought of you. Nothing else. I want...” She pressed her temple against his. “That. From you. Please.” Something in her was wearing away. 

Skywalker didn’t say anything only leaned forward to brush his lips against her cheek, even if he shifted off her, slipping out. He pulled her up, arms tightly around her and there was no bottom at all, because amid the intensity of their kisses, her pulse continued to beat frantically under her skin. By the time he shifted her back onto his lap, she could think of nothing but him.

Skywalker lowered his head to nip at her shoulder. She reached between them for his cock, but was urged to arch her back so he could mouth at her nipples, suck kisses between her breasts, leaving her dripping wet, thighs trembling by the time he pulled his mouth away. His eyes were on her heavily as she slid back down on his cock, one hand perching on her hip, his other at her nape as she lifted and dropped her hips. When she peaked she wanted it to be because she was overcome by the slide of his skin against hers, by the way he looked at her -- like he could have her every which way and it'd never be enough.

It was neither of those.

It was Skywalker’s hand where it lay over the side of her neck. The mere _thought_ of it sliding down infinitesimally, thumb reaching over and squeezing hard over her windpipe. She came apart like flaming wreckage. 

The heat that washed over her left her even more pleasure-struck than last time, barely aware that he was murmuring something. She didn’t want to hear it, but it bore upon her like he did, the cacophony of whispers arranging itself to her name, that she was beautiful, maybe.

Blind, she managed to think even in the fucked out state she was. So blind. 

“Mara.” She would have liked to pretend she didn’t hear it or that she didn’t care, while his hand smoothed along her hip, while he panted her name into her hair. She felt it abstractly when his hands dropped to her hips, grasping them to steady her, lifting and lowering her for the final thrusts before he stiffened, hips spasming in his release. After, he just wrapped his arms around her again.

She came back to herself all too soon and stayed on his lap, even after shifting away so he could slide out, mindless of the mess, kept her arms loose around him.

When would the regret set in?

“Let’s leave,” he whispered after a moment. 

“What?” Her voice sounded strange to her ears. Too flat. He had to be joking. They’d just taken to hyperspace. There was no way to leave until they dropped out.

His arms drew tighter around her. It didn’t even seem he’d recalled his earlier reluctance. Did he forget about it or simply change his mind? 

“It’s you.”

Mara tried not to startle and succeeded. She was really becoming very good at this.

“You’ve already gotten...hurt.” 

She’d told him she wasn’t a rugger and he didn’t listen. 

_More will hate you than love you, but I --_

“Let’s just go. Go now. We can bring the ship out of lightspeed. Grab their Headhunter and go.”

Mara ran it over in her head as a thought exercise. “We can’t do all that,” she replied tentatively, “without them finding out and trying to stop us. It'll end messy.” 

“Doesn't have to. We’ll have a head start.”

“And NR sec?”

“They can figure it out. This is what they do. Let’s just get out of here, Mara.”

“They’re just pirates.” She finally felt centered enough to meet his eyes and let her hands fall from him. “We’ve faced worse, haven’t we?” She forced a lopsided smile on her face. “And what if NR doesn’t get to them on time?”

Skywalker appeared to think for a second.

“No,” she said evenly. “We wait for the right opportunity. Strand them like you said. No one is better placed for it than us. Even with the gems...they’re just pirates, Luke.” She put her hands on his shoulders for emphasis. "I won't be taken by surprise again. I'll take us out of hyperspace as soon as we're into the day cycle. Then it's just about giving NR sec the coordinates. That's it."

Skywalker didn’t answer.

When he spoke next he said, “And when you go back?” 

Her heart sank, to late to push it back. She slid her hands away.

“Mara.” He pulled himself closer still despite having felt it, his head buried in the crook of her neck. She was going to take this one moment and hold it within her. Not much. Just this moment. Even if she didn’t deserve it. Even if it were another rank lie. There were degrees to the lies. She could live with this one. 

“I’ve been drawn to you since I met you. I want...” He stopped, his voice becoming even quieter, slightly muffled. “I think...I think we could be good for each other.”

She exhaled slowly. Good like a blaster bolt to the head, like charred limbs, a hydrospanner to the skull. Blood dripping down the bulkhead. She’d told him. He didn’t listen. He didn’t see.

_I did what he wanted me to._

He'd never seen.

“It’s okay. I...I--this is new to me too. We don’t...we don’t have to do this again if you feel...uncomfortable. We can go back. We can start small. Just training. It doesn't have to be complicated or difficult. It won't be. You need it.”

Mara closed her eyes. Every mechanic knows a good tool when they see one. They might not be even aware that’s what they’re looking for. The hydrospanner slid right into her hands like it belonged there. It did.

Maybe it was the way of the universe, the dark secret at the core: Nothing ever really changes.

Because she’d figured it out during her time here, over trial and error, the limits of sense perception through the Force. It’d been Force training of another sort what she’d put herself through all those days as she kept her mind clear, as she’d filled them with exercises and meditation. Somehow she'd happened on the most important tool in her arsenal. How to obfuscate. How to lie. It always began with the truth, and it hurt every single time. That was how you knew it was working.

So when Skywalker pulled away to stare at her with such blind, knifing hope she had to smile faintly, even though it burned like stycline on an open wound. _Because_ it did.

“I’d like that,” she whispered.


	19. Heter Valve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning this chapter for **non-graphic torture**.  
>  The following chapters will have an increase in violence as well. We're approaching our climax/resolution.
> 
> Time to reiterate previously stated warnings:
> 
> 1\. this is harder, grittier fare than goes for this fandom. it goes to objectionable places  
> 2\. it is not a romance i.e. Luke and Mara's relationship works through a different angle here, their relationship is essential to the story but their aspect as lovers is not what I'm after  
> 3\. tags include (since it went off hiatus in Feb) **grimdark** and **noir**
> 
> Please, please, please keep this in mind if you decide to read on and do have some fluff handy for a brain cleanse.

_Fought the game of who you are_   
_Baby got the best of me_ [[x](https://youtu.be/nAKbzS5saOQ)]  


  


  


“Rise and shine,” the call sounded through the intercom. “Get your asses up.”

Luke sat up with a soft groan from the floor, back feeling like one huge knot. On the bed, Mara shifted to her side away from him and towards the wall, burying her face in the pillow, the sheet bunched by her feet. Her shirt, his, really, had rode up to the middle of her back, and he was already recalling the feel of her thigh under his lips, the pitch of her moans before he could push it to the back of his mind. Luke tore his eyes away and got to his feet, going to look for a change of clothing. 

Mara had offered for him to stay on the bed with her the night before, but the practicality of it was that the bunk simply wasn’t large enough to accommodate two without them sleeping half on each other. It might be fine at the beginning, but keeping in mind the last time he’d woken her, Luke wasn’t sure it’d be a pleasant experience for either of them. This just didn’t seem like the right moment.

The thought nagged. Things might have gotten slightly out of hand. Cart before the bantha.

So when Mara had gone to the ‘fresher, he’d taken back his spot on the floor. He'd thought then as he did now that in some near future, after she’d sorted everything out for herself, things could be different. 

Besides, she’d virtually agreed to training. Luke rummaged for a fresh flightsuit, careful not to make much noise though she was probably half-awake. It’d be good for her, and it’d be familiar ground. He wasn’t about to put that in peril by asking her for things she wasn’t ready for. What had happened between them had been just a moment, and it was fine. It wasn’t was what she'd needed, but it hadn't harmed anything either. With that in mind, he went off to the 'fresher. 

Mara was already dressed in one of his flightsuits when he came out and was sliding on her boots. Her eyes tracked up to him, expression back to her usual calm focus. There was a twitch in her sense of something held back, apprehension probably. 

“What is it?”

“I think...I know what they plan." She began to section her hair for two braids, fingers nimbly crossing the three strands of hair. "They’re not just going to get the slaves. They want the ship too." 

Luke remembered something she’d said yesterday. “A capital ship, you said?”

“A refugee ship from Ryloth. Every few years there's a season bad enough to displace a good number of sentients."

That made sense given what Luke knew. The planet rotated on its axis once a year, leading to the same side being exposed to the sun while the other remained in cold darkness. Twi'lek, in particular, had made their homes underground, in the thin margin between the day and night sides of the planet. Their cities depended on the scorching winds of the day side's surface for power. A season with few heat storms would affect the precarious balance in which the population lived.

Mara slid a hair tie over the braid she’d made. "The Ruling Council has always done a shavit job of protecting their own. Those who find their way offplanet are usually easy prey for slavers in the system. That’s why they’ll be able to do business in Nar Shaddaa." She started on the other side of her hair. "They won’t just offer the Hutts enough slaves to populate a town, they’ll offer them a ship. Bigger than this. All they need is someone to play dumb in the crew of whatever they’re hijacking.”

"That’s too big to hijack though." Luke pursed his lips. “The gems.” Dread curled into him. “They’ll use it to keep everyone in line.”

“They board the capital ship. The usual threat -- give the ship or else everything goes. Maybe tell everyone they just want to steal credits or their belongings to give them false hope.” She quickly finished the second side and slid the tie on it. “Then once they’re in, they take control of the ship. Hit the self-destruct on this one.” 

It was not a simple thing to change a ship's transponder code. For most, it was easier and cheaper to get a new ship. A transponder code made a ship -- and its crew easily traceable. Especially for someone with the means to track them down. Something about that felt significant. 

“There’ll be no trace of them once this ship is gone.” Was that it, he wondered while Mara reached for a mass of pins she’d left on the pillow. “Now you have a whole capital ship at your disposal, hundreds of hostages --slaves -- and no one knows where you are.” She pinned the braid at several places. “They hide among the refugees up until they make it to Hutt Space. Then they offload. Refugees as slaves _and_ the ship itself. The kajidics will be sliming all over themselves.” She gave the braid a tug from where it was pinned on her head. Satisfied it was in place, she started pinning the second braid up.

The next step was obvious. “They get new identities.” 

Mara raised her eyes. “They get whatever they they want.”

“We drop out of hyperspace in seven hours." He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the bulkhead. “I assume that’s when they’ll try and surprise their target. We just need to make sure the ship doesn’t get to it’s location.”

“I can kick us out of hyperspace early.” Mara finished pinning the second braid, finishing up with the tug she gave the first. “Given the issues with the hyperdrive, they’ll just assume they didn’t fix it well. It’s the easiest thing.” She hesitated. “I can also see about the captain’s cabin for the detonator. I brought a few extra tools.”

Luke threw her an incredulous look. She’d been found yesterday with near disastrous results and still...He breathed in. Logic. “I messaged NRI shortly before take off. They shouldn’t have a problem catching up to us when the ship drops out, provided I message them as soon as we do. Going after the detonator isn’t necessary.”

“You remember what I said yesterday?” Her cool demeanor cracked for an instant, piercing worry in her sense as well as something darker, close to regret. “About Crofin.”

The image of her, blood splattered with a dulled gaze floated up in his memory. He pushed it aside, along with the chill that ran down his spine.

Mara was still talking. “They’re going to find his body eventually. If they do and they feel undersieged by NR sec.” She shook her head. “I don’t see how we can afford not to--”

“We’ll be long gone by then," Luke interrupted. "Worse case scenario, I’m sure the task force knows how to make it so that the only people they’re harming are themselves.”

She exhaled. “How are you so sure that the task force will get here on time? They didn’t before and now it's going to be you under suspicion given your...history with Crofin. It’ll be like Sauminn all over again. The second they find out who you are they’re going to play the only card they have.” She clenched a fist beside her. “I know how they think.”

Luke shook his head. “They'll be too worried about suddenly plunging out of hyperspace to worry about us." He set his jaw. "If they confront me like they did Galen, they’re not going to have a chance to think about gems.”

Her shoulders drooped, eyes clouding. “You’ll take that risk.”

Luke rubbed at his forehead. He was sick of this, the hiding, the latent threats, the arguments, the constant second guessing over everything.

“It won’t get to that,” he finally said. “It won’t, Mara. It’s riskier to put yourself in danger again. Not worth it.”

She didn’t grimace, but close. It was a fleeting thing since she was reaching into her bag and pulling out her lightsaber. “Here. You don’t have yours anymore, right?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t be a sentimental fool, Skywalker,” she said softly. 

Luke had a second of pause before taking it. The lightsaber’s hilt felt alien and _wrong_ in his hands. Everything about being here was feeling wrong. 

“I’m giving this back.” He would. He had plucked her out of the dead of space only a few months ago. Just weeks ago he'd kept his promise to her when everything looked bleak. This was a promise too. It wouldn't even be hard. 

Her palm just needed to remain outstretched when he did.

“Yeah, you do that." Her eyes were still clouded.

“You’ll know...if things get complicated.” He steeled himself for pushback, but they needed to agree on this, “Use the distraction to get to the bay, take their Headhunter and get out.”

She forced out one of those obnoxious grating laughs. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at her. “I know how I saw you yesterday.”

“I got careless,” she retorted sharply, eyes flashing. “I told you it’s not going to happen again.”

“There’s escape pods,” he went on. “What we saw had a timer. If it gets to that, I won't have a problem getting off the ship. Especially if I know you’re ahead of me.” He paused, hit by deja vu. “They’re just pirates.” He paused. "But I need you to promise me you'll go ahead. Neither of us will be safe otherwise."

She wrung her hands. “Luke, I can’t just disable the hyperdrive and sit around knowing that they still have a weapon they can use. I can’t.” 

He knew it beyond a doubt then that she was worried. Over him. This stint had, if nothing, proven than any sort of anxiety Mara had was channeled into action, whether it was necessary or not. She should know better, but there was no telling how deeply the events of the past week had affected her.

They just needed to get back home.

Luke spread his hands emphatically. “It doesn’t matter. They’re done. I just need to know you'll keep yourself safe. If it goes like it did with Galen, don't come for me. Go straight to the dock. I'll be right behind you.”

Mara slid her hand atop his, jolting him. He’d expected no such gesture. More than anything he wanted them both off the _Jackal_ as soon as possible. Everything here was a dead end.

They couldn't let the pirates get away though. 

“I have to give it one last try,” she murmured. "You understand, right?"

Luke sighed. Short of finding a way to lock her in the cabin, there was nothing he could do other than hope this was the end of it. 

“Just disable the hyperdrive, Mara. That’s the important part. I can't do that with eyes on me." He slid his hand over hers to squeeze it. "And I need you to promise that if anything goes wrong you'll leave. Promise me.”

She closed her eyes and nodded.

That was something. 

"We'll meet up after," he assured her.

She had snooped around crew quarters for several nights before they stopped at Drenos, he reminded himself. No reason this should be different -- other than yesterday's close call. He was still on edge over it.

Mara met his eyes. "They won't catch me." 

“Stay out of sight,” was all he said, withdrawing his hand.

A faint smile came over her face, a little sad, a corresponding heaviness in her sense seeping out of her tight shields. “Always.” 

Luke turned and forced himself not to look back as he left the cabin, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. They'd both been in worse situations. 

All the same, as soon as she was done he was getting them both off the ship. 

\--

Mara slid herself back up the vent and began her crawl to the captain’s quarters. The captain and Selmur were finishing their breakfast there and she stayed, watchful for her opportunity. If they followed the same pattern as before they had arrived at Drenos, they would head to the bridge to do a check on the ship systems and the course. That would give her enough time to fiddle with the multiprocessor in the kitchen area.

She tried to center herself while she waited, fiddling with her gloves. The next steps would not be pleasant. She wouldn’t be able to keep Skywalker in the dark for much longer. 

Mara rubbed at her temples and sent her senses out. The captain and the first mate were on the move. Once they left, she went to the multiprocessor. There was something to what Skywalker said, the possibility that Selmur or one of the remaining members of the crew had or knew where the detonator was. She needed the captain alive.

For the moment, at least.

She whipped out a vial from her satchel and doused the machine with it, contact with organic material --the opened food packages-- would be what set off the chemical reaction. That done she climbed back to the vent and waited for the captain and first mate to come back. Her thoughts cycled restlessly, stomach roiling as she tried desperately not to think.

It didn’t work and her memories kept rushing up, the scent of lula blossoms in the breeze. 

Mara breathed in, her heart pounding in her chest. She rubbed at her face, feeling her mouth go dry. Everything had gone fine yesterday. She’d even managed to get a solid chunk of hours of sleep last night. It should feel better today.

But it was just a matter of time before Skywalker found out...all of it. She'd underestimated him. She always underestimated him. 

_More will hate you than love you, but I--_

Mara balled her fists, shaking with the urge to slam them against the metal. 

Karrde had given her the choice. It was hers. All hers.

She counted to ten, willing her breathing to order itself and her heartbeat to return to normal.

My decisions, she thought. My reasons. My hands. 

Not NRI’s. Not Skywalker’s. Not any echo's.

Mine.

She'd deal with problems as they appeared.

\--

Luke was the last one to walk into the galley. Only Dreiz and Dunn remained from the looks of it, which was just as well. He went for a caf and his meal. His shift would have him in the sensor deck most of the morning. He could probably check on Mara’s progress at the engine room at some point mid-shift. 

“Hey.”

Luke looked up to see Dunn had come over to take a seat in front of him. The younger man flashed him a lopsided grin that bordering ingratiating. Luke forced himself to keep eating.

“You still sore about how the thing with the tailhead ended?”

He didn’t look up from his food. “Get off it, Dunn.”

“Relax Stonn. Just being grateful.”

Luke darted his eyes up, instantly reaching out with his senses. “What are you talking about?” 

Dunn didn’t mean him any ill will, there was some...recognition, but none of Luke’s wariness lifted. The hiss of the door sounded loudly as Dreiz left.

“Just that I’m glad Mahas isn’t here,” Dunn said all too casually. “If it means a little more work on our end...” He shrugged. “Worth it not to be carrying that piece of bantha shit around. Good riddance.”

Luke turned his head, not sure how to respond. He leaned forward slightly. “You can’t be thinking--”

“Not thinkin’ anything.” Dunn lifted his own cup of caf. “Just sayin’. That’s all.”

That rankled more than he expected. Especially, with the way that Dunn was looking at him -- as if he were one of them. Luke felt his frown deepen.

“Besides, Stri filled me up on the plan. With Mahas gone, the payday gets better.” His eyes grew slightly concerned. “Stri’s not too happy. Thinks we needed that ape, but he’ll come around after.” He chuckled. “We’re packing hot.”

Luke tried not to betray anything but mild interest. “What do you mean?” 

“You don’t scare easy?” Dunn asked. “Or do you?”

Luke just stared at him.

“We’re carrying the equivalent of a million thermal detonators.”

Okay, that was a bit exaggerated. “We are not.” Luke drank from his caf. Firegems and thermal detonators were not the same thing. 

Dunn laughed. “Tell you something else you don’t know. We’re gonna use them.”

“How?” 

“We’re gonna boost a corvette.”

“In this thing?” Luke grunted out dismissively. “We’re fast and all but we don’t have the firepower to get on top of one of those.”

“Don’t have to,” Dunn replied. “It’s gonna be one of those CR70s, near ancient. And...we got a guy inside. Ah.” He grinned. “Not too far-fetched now.”

“Too big,” Luke countered between mouthfuls, feigning flippancy. “There’s only eight of us. Even if we had someone inside. A minimum crew for those is about twenty. Shavit odds.”

“Boss says we’re doin’ it, we’re doin’ it.” Dunn’s face grew pinched. “You think different?” 

“No. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m just doubting that the boss is a fan of suicide runs. Can’t spend money when you’re dead.”

“You’re not listening, Stonn,” Dunn adopted a wheedling tone. “Our guy drops the corvette, we board it with the thermals -- we don’t even have to _do_ anything. Once the crew sees it they’re not going to want to do shavit. They’ll keep their own people in line. I mean sure we might have to show we mean business, but it’s a civilian ship.”

Luke stayed quiet.

“Passenger transport class. We’re about to be swimming in credits.” His eyes flickered over to Luke. “Girls too, if you’re still broken up.”

He scowled at him. “I am not broken up.”

Dunn lifted his hands. “I’m tryin’ to be a pal here.” He inched forward. “And just between us you’re actin' real strange. Ever since that Galen thing.” His gaze turned weighty.

Luke reached out again through the Force. It still didn’t _feel_ like a threat. 

“What exactly are you saying?”

“Nothing.” He stood up. "Just that we’re getting to the end of this shavit and there’s gonna be a huge payday. Mahas was a karkin’ pain in the ass, but he’s gone now, so everything should be just rainbows.”

Luke couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously.

Dunn laughed a little as he went to put his cup back. “Guess what I’m saying is lighten the kriff up, Stonn.” 

He clapped Luke’s shoulder on his way out. “Rainbows, man.” 

\--

Several hours of near continuous fighting with intrusive memories, the captain and his first mate were back for lunch. She would have wandered to the engine room to deal with the hyperdrive to pass the time, but Cridmeen and Parsto had shift there as far as she could tell. When the captain went to his cabin Mara snuck in, taking her spot under the bunk once she heard the 'fresher door close. A short while later she heard it open and heard his footsteps out to the tiny galley between the cabins.

From there it wasn't a long wait. Soon she felt the first mate rush to his cabin and heard the captain stumble back into his, darting to the 'fresher. Mara waited to hear the sounds of retching before carefully leaving her hiding spot. She went to the stateroom door panel and locked it.

The poison she’d administered would having both the captain and his first mate vomiting up until their stomach lining was raw. She waited a few more minutes and walked to the ‘fresher door, paused, gave her gloves one last check, and walked in.

The captain was so busy heaving he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until her hands were around his head. By then it was too late, she slammed his head down hard against the toilet bowl rim. One wouldn’t be enough not from this short distance, but it was dazing and he was weakened from the poison. It was easy to crack him a second time. He was barely struggling by the third, and there Mara could pull his head back enough to properly slam it. She let him collapse on the floor after. He didn’t move.

She stood up wrinkling her nose at the reek and scanned his vitals. 

The captain was alive. Certainly not pretty, but alive. The human face could stand a non-negligible amount of impact.

And if she’d caused brain damage. Well, it just meant moving the timetable up a little bit more. He wouldn’t be able to get to the gems all the same.

Mara flushed the toilet and went outside for her satchel. It was hardly the place she’d select, but one couldn’t always choose where interrogations were to take place.

\--

Luke spent most of shift going from terminal to terminal running diagnostics on the sensor deck. Rennek, who was overseeing all of it, complained about only having Luke and Dreiz, the latter of which was frequently called by Enif to look at hardware. Luke was sent on task after task as the pirates went through more thorough checks than usual -- probably in preparation for the hijacking. 

He was more concerned with Mara getting to the engine room. Last he’d checked, Strilath and Dunn were there. He supposed it had given Mara the perfect excuse to go back to the captain’s quarters, which was disheartening, but not unexpected given their conversation. The only thing that made it okay was that the captain and Bareth were at the bridge. Luke was tempted to send her a nudge via the Force.

“Diagnostic found something at line four, Stonn," Rennek interrupted his thoughts. "Nah, E-11 is what you want, Dreiz.” Rennek didn't look up from the computer screen. “I don’t care about the bells and whistles.”

“I checked that one,” Luke called. “It was a conductor relay. Run it again and it should clear.”

“Your funeral,” Dreiz retorted from where he was, popping his head up from a hatchway that led to a lower compartment. “Boss got clipped by a DL- 44, sniper style. It’s got enough range. Hey, Enif!” he raised his voice. “I’m near done with the install for the new set of power cells!” He turned back to Rennek. “The E-11 is too heavy to really work in a firefight.”

“The range of a E-11 kicks it right outta the atmosphere,” Rennek shot back, fingers moving over the key pad. “Yeah, you’re clear, Stonn. That was a luck thing with the boss. A DL-44 is not that much better than a DL-18. You look at the couplers for the base modules, Stonn?”

“The DL-44 has enough range,” Dreiz continued adamantly. "It is _not_ the same. There's a reason it's more credits."

The bits about the attack at Drenos flagged. Luke turned to Rennek. "I'll have a crack at them now. How come you know the blaster model?” He went over to the base module, opening up the access panel.

"Boss saw the shooter," Rennek clarified behind him. "Enif, the power cells are up! Dreiz, you might have to pull his head out from wherever.”

Dreiz made a disgusted sound. “I wanted to get started on the damper checks. Get that shavit done before lunch.” 

Luke’s eyes widened and he looked up from the tangle of wires, turning to meet Rennek's eyes. “Wait, he was close enough to?”

“Tough,” Rennek told Dreiz before nodding over at Luke. “Some bugface or other. Before you go, Dreiz, check the receptors, will you? Maybe you should go instead, Stonn.”

“Rodian?” Luke asked. He turned back to the electronics. "Couplers look fine."

Rennek shook his head. “Long nose. Trumpet alien.”

Luke thought about it for a second. A kubaz. They tended more towards spying than bounty hunting. Odd.

Dreiz nodded. “Just a few blocks from sec too. Bugface almost got caught. Shavit." He ducked his head back into the compartment, his voice coming out muffled. "The passivemode sensors are kriffin’ up again. No wait. They’re back.”

"Check 'em again," Rennek called. "They show with some power loss here. Are they blinking?"

That was strange for a bounty hunter. Usually they avoided law enforcement at all cost. Luke closed the access panel and turned around to face Rennek. “Did he?”

“Did he what?" Rennek asked absentmindedly.

"Wiring issue! Should be okay now," Dreiz yelled.

"Get caught."

"No, Bareth almost went after him, said he lost track." Rennek typed up more commands. "Yeah, looks good, Dreiz. Thinks he took a chunk out of him though--”

“What are you idiots chattering about?” Enif called, emerging from the hatchway. “Stonn, check on the second compressor.”

“Going,” Luke replied. Something about the exchange unsettled him for some reason. “Front or back?”

“Back --over there." He gestured to the opposite side of the room. "What was that about blowing chunks?” Enif asked Rennek and Dreiz as Luke went for the storage unit holding the diagnostic tools. “We talkin’ about Dreiz’s love of Tatooine Sunrises?”

Dreiz's head popped back up. “Kriff you, that shavit was laced.”

Enif laughed snidely. “With what? Good intentions?”

“Kriffin’ once. Your tub ass can’t let a man forget a karkin’ thing.”

“ _Muscle_ , mote for brains--”

“The hit job on the boss,” Rennek supplied. “Bareth clipping the bugface.”

“Oh.” Enif’s laughter faded. “Right. Something weird about it.”

Luke went to one of the storage units, picking out the readers he needed.

“How do you figure?” Rennek asked, turning from the terminal he was at.

“Well, right in a crowded street. That’s an amateur move -- I mean enough to get clipped, which okay you expect that from someone new to the job, but then they’re,” Luke looked up just in time to see Enif make a vanishing gesture with his hand, “Gone. No trace. Bareth looked. When I was workin private, they taught us to pay attention to shavit like that.”

“Private?” Luke asked.

Dreiz sniggered as he emerged fully from the hatchway. “Enif was a boy-in-brown when he was a thinner man.”

Luke frowned. Corporate Sector Security? He couldn’t help an incredulous look in the stocky engineer’s direction. The little he knew about about the Corporate Sector was that it was just as the name suggested -- thousands of systems under the control of various business conglomerates. Han and Chewie had a couple of stories. It’d been under Zsinj’s control until he died last Luke knew. Not a whole lot of movement in and out of their territories, even after Endor.

“Shut it. The pay was mynock shit. Anyway Stri said sec looked in holocams in the main avenue. Nothing.” Enif stopped and Luke felt his concern intensify. “That was some professional shavit. But before? Sloppy. You don’t expect that from a hit job, you know? Seen enough drooling drebbles to know how they operate. No pile of credits is worth getting pinched by sec.”

“It’s a Baron though,” Dreiz muttered after a moment. “Maybe he raised the bounty and the bugface got too eager.”

“Yeah,” Enif muttered, but unease still radiated from him. “I guess.”

There was something about it that bothered Luke too as he wandered out. Bounty hunters were determined, but the pirates had a point. Not only would a blatant attack call security forces on them, but an innocent bystander could have gotten hurt. Had the bounty on the pirates gone up that much? Was an increased payday what had been behind his vashing too? 

The pirates' conversation moved to other topics as Luke made his way over to the compressors several feet away 

\--

The captain came to with a groan. Mara let him try to orient himself, to think past the throbbing in his skull and face, the soreness of his stomach, and the caked vomit and blood on him to realize he had his hands cuffed behind his back, his ankles cuffed in the front, adhesive tape wound up around his calves. 

She felt the brush of Skywalker's mind, sending her stomach into more knots as if such a thing was possible. It was no more than a poke that she should be at the engine room though. She clenched her teeth and sent back that she was busy. If he was as concerned for her as he had been, he should let her focus. She'd get to the engine room soon.

Skywalker wasn't happy, but she sensed his own attention being drawn by other things. A bit of distance returned and Mara almost breathed a sigh of relief. She brought herself back to her task, locking her focus, no doubt, no feelings, only the job.

“Hello,” Mara greeted from where she sat on the toilet, the box beside her on the sink. “Captain Denk.”

He blinked at her groggily and said something that came out garbled.

“Take your time,” she cautioned evenly. “You probably have a concussion. You don’t want to overexert yourself.” 

This was probably when the gravity of his situation began filtering in. Mara watched fear pass to rage and finally panic as his eyes stopped at her gloved hands and lifted up to her face.

He started struggling. 

She let him thrash about the small space for a few seconds before pulling out her holdout.

He immediately froze. For a second she thought he’d recognized her, but it was another bit of recognition that was in evidence when he rasped, “You have the note.” 

Mara nodded. “I do.”

“Why am I alive?”

She didn't bother answering. It was better that way. Now to limit his choices. “Your first mate is convalescing in his cabin, chances are he won’t so much as think of you until several hours from now, and your crew doesn’t expect to see you until evening. That should give us enough time to talk.”

Mara expected the captain to shoot bravado or invectives at her, but he only looked at her grimly. 

“Puttin' the hurt's part of the contract, huh?” he grunted.

She arched an eyebrow. He’d failed to remember her as the stowaway. Perhaps it was one thing to be half clothed and shrinking from his gaze while getting cuffed, and another to be primly sitting looking down at him, functionally clothed with a blaster in hand while _he_ wore the cuffs. For some, the two were irreconcilable. 

“No, actually.” She deliberately went for the box beside the sink and brought it to her lap, making sure he got a good look. "I have a question and you're going to answer it for me."

He paled as she opened it. She saw him brace himself. “This is not my first spin, assassin. Did time at a dungeon a long time ago. You don't scare me, girl.”

An Imperial prison barge. Mara didn’t pause as she methodically picked out the assembled hypospray with her free hand. "Oh?"

“A talking hypo?" He licked his lips. “Shavit don’t work.”

Mara raised her eyes. “Really.”

“Got pinched at Ord Tikell after the plague.” He stared at her contemptuously. “I'm not telling you a thing.”

She leaned back slightly. "Ord Tikell...sounds like Outer Rim. Are you a fearless bad man from the Outer Rim, Captain? I couldn't possibly make you talk given what you've lived through, is that it?”

He stared at her, spark of loathing bright in his eyes.

"But you are a bad man who makes mistakes, isn't that right, Captain?" She tilted her head. "Wouldn't have been taken into a dungeon otherwise."

She saw his lips twitch. He was probably tempted by the prospect of stalling. "You heard of the Neri Plague?"

Mara shook her head. She placed the hypo carefully on her lap and closed the box. “At Ord Tikell?" A looser tongue made the serum take better after it was administered even if it felt like a colossal waste of time. 

He nodded. “No one allowed to leave. Boys in white from the base up north packed up and locked up those who tried.”

She’d heard a similar story or two before joining Karrde’s crew. Given where it was, this was probably the result of some Imperial Research Facility experiment gone awry. Back then she’d chalked that sort of thing to the rampant corruption of the Oversector Outer, the presiding Imperial authority over the Outer Rim, all those parasites groping for the next perfect weapon as if that could bring back past glories and prevent them from being flushed away.

There were no past glories to bring back. This kind of thing probably happened before too. During her time.

Mara stopped that thought in its tracks. Maybe the captain's story was true. Maybe it wasn't. It didn't matter where monsters came from or what their sob stories were. It was about making them _stop_. 

“Let me guess. Mass panic. And poor younger you rounded up and locked up.”

The captain laughed. “Kriff you, assassin. I'm not saying this for your sympathy.” He laughed again. “Idiots looked for confessions that it was some Rebel plot. No point. They knew they did it. We knew they did it." He lifted his chin. "Point is, all those talking hypos do is make a man babble to make the pain stop. Most of it don’t make even sense. So you're getting nothing from me. Might as well make me eat plasma and be done with it.”

Mara checked her chrono. She disagreed. Rather, that was why an interrogation was only as good as its first twenty to thirty minutes. The drug she'd procured was probably not as efficient as the ones she'd used years ago, so there might be a bit of uncertainty there. She could ratchet up the pain manually if need be. The issue right now was time. She'd brought up the blast doors that separated the captain and first mate's quarters from the crew's after she'd restrained the captain, but that would only buy her so much of it. 

She deal with that when she came to it. "Was this before or after you started slaving?” 

He met her eyes squarely. “Man doesn’t have too many options after getting out of a dungeon.”

"Doesn't he?" She gave him a chilly smile. Standard protocol striped criminals of their identifications as part of isolation procedures. A vast majority never got out anyway. On the unlikely chance they did, they'd have to petition for new identifications through the prison from the local Imperial authorities, placing themselves at the mercy of bureaucracy. She'd known of a few smugglers who'd tried and given up. Karrde's organization employed some of them.

None of them had turned to slaving. 

"Was it immediately slaving?" she mused. "Or was it later that you figured out you could get paid for rape and murder?"

The captain’s eyes hardened. “Was it later you figured out you could get paid for torture and murder, assassin?”

She kept the smile on her face. “Oh, I've never been paid for it.”

In a smooth movement, she stood and crouched, leaning forward to stab the hypo into his neck.

“That’s enough small talk.” Mara took her seat back on the toilet and put down her blaster on her lap, reaching for the box. She whipped the vial out from the hypo, and popped it back in its place along with the hypo. She closed the box when she was done and placed it back on the sink.

Mara crossed her legs and leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand, her attention back on the dazed man before her. “Let’s talk about your cargo, Captain.”

\--

The rest of the time at the sensor deck went uneventfully, but Luke found no moment where he could sneak away without arousing suspicion. They were short crewed and work kept piling up considerably. He found his break when they went off to go to lunch, and excused himself, ostensibly to go to the 'fresher. Unfortunately, right then Enif reported some compensator breakdown, and Dreiz showed up to collect him. He now found himself needing another excuse to peel himself away from the crew.

Had Mara finished searching out the captain’s cabin? The captain and Bareth had to be back which meant her window to break into and go through the captain’s cabin had closed. He checked. No, she still seemed to be over at the captain’s quarters. He felt himself tense at the thought of her still there. Playing it close. Again. As if last time hadn’t been enough--

“How were the front compensators?” Enif asked him. "Dreiz went to get you, right?"

"Yeah, we took care of it." Luke went for a tray. “Diagnostics found some loss in efficiency, but all within range.”

Strilath and Dunn were here, which meant she should be going over to the engine room. It was all clear.

“You’re having compensator shavit?” Strilath called from where he sat.

He reached out with the Force to nudge her...and was soundly rebuffed by her blaring out she was busy. She'd get to it soon.

“Not really,” Enif answered grabbing his own tray. “Just running checks. What about you guys?”

Luke scanned the room. That was it. He'd disable the hyperdrive himself then collect Mara.

“Found some weird stuff with the Headhunter,” Dunn offered from where he sat beside Strilath.

“What do you mean?” Enif asked, sitting beside Strilath. “Oh-one or oh-two?”

Luke caught a flash of something from Strilath, and the snap of his head in Dunn’s direction. His guard instantly went up.

“Oh-two,” Dunn replied. “The wiring over the hyperdrive is a mess, like someone dug around in it.”

“Huh.” Enif frowned. “Anyone log anything in?”

“Nah,” Strilath interjected. “Probably some old shavit. We haven’t used them in ages. I’ll take a look at the logs later.” His gaze seemed to rest on Luke, but quickly moved away.

He knew. Strilath knew about the gems. Did that mean that Strilath was behind the murders?

Luke stared down at his meal. Somehow, he doubted it. He felt Strilath look over at him again, suspicion sharp. 

This could be a problem.

But he’d come to an understanding with Dunn precisely so the younger man would keep having sighted him with Mara to himself that night. Luke snuck a glance over at Dunn, had he let it slip? He thought of earlier and Dunn approaching him. It didn’t seem so. Chances were Strilath was simply adding that to his suspicion over Mahas’ disappearance.

“Stri,” Dreiz was saying boisterously. “You gotta weigh in. Say you had a disgusting amount of credits would you get a DL-44 or E-11?”

“Blas Tech?” Strilath’s attention was off Luke. “E-11.”

Enif cackled while Dreiz protested. 

“That’s because Stri’s a goddamn Wookiee!”

Dunn chuckled. “I’d go for an E-11.”

“Shut up, Dunn, if Stri dressed like a Kuati princess you’d be wearing a skirt right beside him. You wouldn’t be able to carry an E-11, runt. Stonn, come on. At least someone in this outfit has gotta have brains.”

Luke shook his head, at this point he wasn’t going to do anything to stand out. He couldn't care less about the actual subject. “Better range, more power. Why are you even asking?”

“All of you are stupid,” Dreiz summed up. “You can’t hide that shavit either.”

“If Bareth had had an E-11 that bugface would have been roasted,” Rennek pointed out over a mouthful of food a few seats over. “No question. He wouldn’t have just given him a kriffin’ love tap on the shoulder.”

And suddenly it was as if a two ton weight had dropped on Luke’s stomach.

The memory of Mara’s right shoulder and a singe mark from a blaster bolt that had passed too close. Fresh.

Like it could have happened that morning.

His thoughts whirled.

The Baron put out the death mark.

The Baron had hired Karrde’s organization.

Mara as the Baroness. Mara in lekku and talons.

_"Avoiding getting too close to the wildlife is a basic principle.”_

The buzzing around him sharpened into words.

“Stonn, are you okay?”

Dreiz’s voice.

Luke raised his head, acutely aware of the rest of the pirates staring at him. “Yeah.”

Mara had taken up the death mark.

She'd been behind _everything_. 

Almost reluctantly, he opened himself to the Force deliberately seeking her presence out with the numbness of abject shock.

It wasn’t her he found. Anguish slammed into him hard, a being in pain -- so much it fact it took him longer than usual to discern who it was. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of agony, so much there was nothing but _stop, let it stop please_.

Luke jerked himself away, suppressing his gasp. He shoved away from the table, standing up quickly.

The calls behind him reduced to sounds. He wished that he hadn’t known what he’d just felt, that he could chalk it up to a mistake. 

He knew what it was. He'd felt it before. It’d been his friends then...at his father's hand. Sickening, and horrifyingly wrong. He reached out again; _this_ was not who she was...no response came.

Luke dashed to the door, inattentive to the pirates’ cries behind him, his mind reeling. He slapped the door panel and stormed out, ignoring the searing stab of betrayal, the crushing heartache of disappointment at its heels, and so much fury a being could drown in it. Lies upon lies upon lies. 

None of that was important right now. The important thing was that she _stop_.

And yet, one thought spun in loop, piercing him with every turn. 

_You’ve taken me for a fool from the start._

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly fluff, but some [nice, beautiful romance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9720281/chapters/21921338) by my brain twin. That's where I'm heading off to right now...


	20. Lock Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what you're in for if you've been reading this far, but I will keep up warnings for individual chapters. Only four parts to go after this. Tenson shmension, we all know how it's gonna end anyway.
> 
> Warning for mentions of **non graphic torture**.
> 
> My same brain made me another moodboard! [Here](http://teagrl.tumblr.com/post/163622274252/operaticspacetrash-made-me-a-new-ricochet)

__  
__  
_There are times when I miss the appeal_  
_Energy that pulls us toward it_  
_To feel the total job_ [[x](https://youtu.be/Ws9cPizltbk)]  


  


  


When it got to the loud screaming part, Mara shot the captain in the face. 

She wasn’t exactly sure how much the sound would carry even in the ‘fresher. Between the smell of vomit and blood and the screeching, she was reminded why she’d never much liked interrogations. Might as well end it there.

Mara exited the ‘fresher and sat on the bed mulling the whole thing over. What was truly aggravating was that she’d gotten nothing on the detonator or anything else. The captain had tipped over to threats and slurs as the serum took, most of eventually degenerating to gibberish.

It’d been her own fault. If she’d had more time she could have tried a lighter hand, but she’d just wanted more pressure, more incentive to talk. The time constraint had made the whole thing dead in the water. Blasting out his the knee might have been a mistake, but she’d also never dealt with a criminal who had past experience with a serum. She had a vague memory of reading that the more interrogations a criminal had gone through, the harder it was for anything but a simple confession to make sense. Mara sighed.

Anything a subject said had some relevance though. Mara fished out her datapad and quickly input Neri Plague and Ord Tikell. An epidemic of unknown origins. 

Unsurprising.

Her eye scanned further...the epidemic lead to massive unrest from the populace violently put down by the sector governor. Well into the crisis point, members of the strangled populace were strapping bombs to themselves and walking into garrisons. This was not a rare story though perhaps the scale made it notable, but it was Outer Rim, well before the Battle of Yavin. 

She ran it over in her mind and went to another source. The authorities finally thought the situation was under control after forcing substantial portion of the populace into the Imperial prison barges commissioned for the crisis, intending to send them to nearest penal colony. Mara clicked quickly on the section titled ‘second phase’.

Classified documents detailed the mysterious loss of the Kiltirin-class dungeon ship, sent plunging to the atmosphere of Ord Tikell. No accurate counts of survivors were thought to exist. That was probably why the incident attained mythic status for the populace who imagined an uprising. Inmate chips weren't even activated until after the subject reached their destination. Regardless of the rumors, it was highly unlikely that the prisoners found a way to activate their trainsmitter chips en masse to take the behemoth down. The higher likelihood was that it had been a technical malfunction. That didn't stop the stories though.

Her breath caught as an image of the slumped body on the 'fresher floor came to mind. 

An inmate chip. 

Outlawed by the New Republic. Manufactured and sold in black markets throughout the galaxy.

A transmitter chip.

A chill went down her spine. He couldn’t have possibly taken that as some twisted _inspiration_...

Mara burst into action, returning to the 'fresher, turning her face slightly at the smell. She gave a quick scan for the situation outside the captain and first mate’s quarters. 

Skywalker was on the move and very...unhappy by the edges she couldn’t help but perceive, but her shields would hold she was sure. There were lines Skywalker wouldn’t cross. In some ways all of this would be easier without the Force, but as long as she had it, it’d be foolish not to use it.

As for the rest, well, the blast doors to the captain’s space might keep him out for the moment, but not nearly long enough. There was not enough time for delicacy. The fact that the ship hadn’t blown up underneath them meant there was some margin for error. She'd take it.

Her lip curled. A damn transmitter chip for a detonator. That coward tried to rig _himself_ to take the ship and his pursuers with him. If it was as she was assuming, something had either gone wrong or there was a longer clockwork mechanism.

Both things she could deal with. 

All the captain’s desperate measures had been ultimately unable to save him from an extremely unpleasant death, and while she couldn’t offer the same to his degenerate crew, she _was_ going to exterminate them like the pests they were, no matter what they tried. Mara took off her gloves and pulled up the sleeves of her flightsuit, going for her vibroblade.

There were only a few set places in the body from where a signal could reliably travel.

\--

Luke broke into a jog once he was out of the corridor.

“Where you going?” Strilath’s voice was distant in his haze, his footsteps thundering distantly behind Luke.

Luke didn’t stop his jog, senses attuned to the Force, jaw tight. His mind circled and circled.

Torture.

Mara had resorted to torture.

Inconcievable...and yet, now that he knew she'd been behind all the deaths, it was far more sickening that it _wasn’t_. The potential for it had been right in front of his face all along like a ticking bomb. How could he have missed it? 

“I asked where are you going -- hey! I’m talking to you!” 

The twitch from his Force sense had him stepping to the side, preventing Strilath from grabbing him. 

“What’s going on?” Dunn’s voice resounded through the corridor, his steps hurried as he hurried over to them. He immediately got between the Strilath and Luke. “Lay off him, Stri.” Luke heard from behind him as he kept going. “Wait, Stonn!”

“You get back in the galley, Dunn,” Strilath called out.

“Stri, he’s alright -- Stonn, where’re you going? Stri! Come on!”

Luke continued down the corridor, no longer paying attention.

He slowed down realizing that the interior blast doors to the captain’s quarters were down. By the time Strilath and Dun had caught up to him, the captain’s Force presence had fizzled out of existence. Mara was still in there though...and as unreceptive as she’d been since he’d darted over.

He had no idea what he’d say to her. Getting to her was more than half the battle and now, it made glaring, terrible sense why. He’d thought all that distancing was to hide her own wounds. That hadn’t been it at all. She’d used them to hide what she’d been _doing_.

She’d deceived him at every turn... _everything_ amounting to an intricately constructed palace of lies, fully exploiting that he cared--

“Stonn,” Dunn called out. “Come on, man. What’s going on?”

And now this.

Luke clenched his jaw. “I need to talk to the captain.”

“‘Bout what?” Strilath looked at the doors in puzzlement. "What's this?"

“Dunno. Maybe the boss is doing some hush hush shavit. Look, if it’s Mahas,” Dunn stepped towards Luke, “Don’t sweat it.” He shrugged. “We barely have a crew and you know Mahas has been looking for shavit since the beginning of time. It’s the principle, right, Stri? We’ll figure it out without him.”

Strilath stared at Luke. “That it?”

Luke met his gaze. This was enough. Cover or no cover, he wasn’t about to admit to murder. He raised his chin. “No, it’s not.”

Dunn laughed humorlessly. “Come off it. You’ve been acting guilty about it since you got onboard. Just get it off your chest and we can just move on. Same as you did for me.”

He kept his offense in check. Barely. “I didn’t do it.”

A loud shout from inside the closed off section rang through the air. 

Strilath was already inputing the code and the doors slid open to the interior quarters. The doors to both Bareth and the captain’s cabins were open. Dunn darted right in, Strilath at his heels. Luke kept on intending to go ahead to the bridge -- there was nothing to be done here, after all. 

“Boss?” Strilath called, unholstering his blaster. “Bareth? Wouldn't go far if I were you, Stonn.”

His alarm sense pricked and Luke turned around. Strilath's blaster was suddenly pointed at him. 

"I was with you," he said quietly, raising his hands. "You know I was with you."

"You seem in an awful hurry." He jerked his head in the direction of the captain's cabin indicating he should go in. "Don't go anywhere just yet." 

With every single muscle tense, Luke crossed the few paces back and went into the cabin, Strilath behind him.

“I think that was Bareth yelling,” Dunn said, eyes raking across the room. He finally noticed the blaster. "What are you doing? Put that blaster down."

"So help me, Dunn, get in the way again, and I'll shoot you too."

"Come on, man. Don't go crazy."

“I don’t -- we don’t have time for this, Strilath.” Luke inched towards the door.

Strilath shot and Luke ducked reflexively even though the pirate wasn't meaning to shoot at him, the bolt hitting the bulkhead beside the door, sending sparks flying.

"Strilath!" Dunn shouted.

"That's your warning." He turned to Dunn."Did you check all of the room?"

"Bareth's in danger," Luke said, tamping down on the impulse to simply take out his lightsaber and end the whole sham right there.

"How would you know?" Strilath snapped. "Unless--"

"Calm down Stri!" Dunn intervened. "Stonn's right we should go after Bareth," the younger man burst into the 'fresher, "Captain's not even--oh Nyax. Nyax. Nyax Nyax," he cursed and promptly backed out, eyes wild.

Luke inwardly recoiled.

Strilath's blaster didn't move from Luke. "What?" he barked.

Dunn shook his head, he opened his mouth then closed it.

"Walk," Strilath told Luke, gesturing to the 'fresher with his free hand.

"We're wasting time," Luke bit off, but did as he asked, bracing himself. The smell hit him first. Luke averted his face, tamping down his nausea and shock. How could she do this...he immediately went into a calming technique.

"You karkin' knew!" Strilath shouted at Luke. 

Luke shook his head, back in the urgency of the moment. "I have nothing to do with this, Strilath," he said quickly. "But I know--"

“Dunn, get back to the others.” Strilath stormed out of the 'fresher, not taking his eyes off Luke. “Tell them we have a bounty hunter onboard. Heading to the bridge.”

“Stri.” The younger man's eyes were still panic stricken. “He--he--”

Luke had the feeling Strilath just wanted Dunn away so he could shoot him, but the pirate wasn't completely convinced. A wisp of doubt remained in his sense. "We have to go. Bareth---" 

“ _I'll_ catch up to him.” Strilath directed his next to Luke while Dunn got enough wits about him to scurry away, comm in hand. “You lying--”

"I'm not lying." Warning through the Force was ratcheting up. If there was a moment to use his lightsaber -- but doing so meant losing his cover and control over the situation altogether. How much did Strilath know?

“Why did you come see the boss now?” he shouted advancing. “Why now? Are you working with--”

“No! No. I have nothing to do with any of this. Nothing.” Luke sent out his senses, feeling Strilath’s fear, Dunn’s too, and beyond them both, Bareth’s. If they found out they had a Jedi onboard, it would only make them feel cornered. Especially now.

You never knew what someone cornered would do.

Had Mara gotten the detonator?

Luke couldn't ponder it because warning blared at a fever pitch and he automatically stepped forward putting a hand over Strilath's blaster’s muzzle, opening himself to the Force as if he were drawing up a lungful of air.

There was a loud sound as the blaster went off.

Luke released the muzzle, a tendril of smoke rising from it. He lifted his hands again.

Strilath’s eyes widened as he took in Luke’s undamaged hand. His mouth open and closed a few times before he finally spoke, “You can do things.”

Luke blinked. Strilath’s hostility had given to surprise and there he came back to himself enough to look at his hand -- he’d used his left, his real hand. 

He looked back at Strilath, who had lowered the blaster, but was taking a step back. Panic rose up in the pirate.

“Yeah.” That had taken Luke by surprise too and he wasn't sure he could repeat it. “I can do things. It’s not -- it’s not something I advertise.” He shook his head resolutely. “But I didn’t do that to the captain, Strilath. I knew something was wrong...but not--not this. We've lost enough time already if Bareth’s in trouble.” He straightened up and levied a firm stare at Strilath. "Don't do that again." He waited, his hand edging slightly towards the pocket where he'd put the lightsaber.

Strilath's eyes were on his blaster muzzle. When he raised his eyes the blaster didn't come back up. Luke felt the pirate's hostility change to caution.

“Let me deal with the bounty hunter," Luke chanced. "You go with Dunn.”

Strilath's head snapped up. “Why the hell would I --” He broke off and turned his head slightly. “Wait, did the captain hire you for _that_? A bounty hunter failsafe?”

Luke pursed his lips. If that’s what it took to get Strilath away...“I don’t like to talk private business.”

A scowl came over the pirate’s face. “Yeah, well, he’s _dead_ so you're absolute shavit at your business--”

Luke flinched, but alarms started blaring. Luke ran out of time to discuss it; he simply rushed ahead.

\--

Naturally, the first thing Selmur did as soon as he got to the bridge was to double lock the doors. That was fine. Mara had counted on it, in fact, and had disappeared into one of the vents and tracked him as soon as she emerged from the crew quarters.

He was activating the ship-wide alarm as she soundlessly dropped behind him and whipped out her holdout. 

“Hands up behind your head. Turn around slowly.”

Selmur froze from where he was leaning towards the intercom.

“You kill me and the whole ship will go.” He did as she asked though, eyes lowering to her stained hands. She hadn't had time to wash them or lower her sleeves before he'd caught her. “The whole--the whole ship! All of us!” The words had a creeping hysteria in them, but Mara didn’t feel any deceit. Alarmingly. 

“Your captain said the same thing.” She covered up her apprehension. “We know how that turned out. I found it, you know. The transmitter chip. It’s dead. Want to take a look?” 

Selmur shuddered. “No. And it’s not. It’s not dead. It’s not. If I die you die. Please. The transmitter. It--it senses me dead along with the captain’s and the gems they-they-they activate the timer.”

Mara narrowed her eyes. Was that how it worked?

The pirate continued, his face tight with fear. “I didn’t hurt the girl. You can tell your boss. It was--it was--it was Kruk and Mahas. I--I--I didn’t touch her.”

She really didn’t care. “Wait, so they make up one detonator. The one the captain had and the one you have?”

Selmur nodded. “The captain said -- he said it would be safer that way. Harder to get--to get--to get...both of us. He--he said we wouldn’t need it!”

“Settle down, Selmur.” She reached into her satchel for her cuffs. “I haven’t decided if I buy your story,” she lied. “But I’ll need your cooperation.” Mara gestured to one of the stations in the bridge, which monitored the weapons arrays. “Go over there.”

He followed her instructions. Without taking her aim off him, she crouched and slid the cuffs over to him. “Cuff yourself.”

“Please--”

“Shut the kriff up. I don’t need to kill you to confirm your story. I could just tranc you and go digging. You decide.” 

Mara watched him mutely do as she said. “Your ship codes.”

He paused about to object, but she could see the memory of the captain on the floor pass through his face and he blurted out the codes.

She went to the nav computer, keyed them in and once in the system, gave the command to take them out of hyperspace once the computer deemed safe. As the calculations ran, her eye roved over the instruments and stopped at the switch calling for a manual check of the secondary propulsion tank. Skywalker was approaching fast, a pirate behind him, but the mass of them were still behind at the galley. 

The computer beeped, having run the calculations and deciding the drop was safe. She hit the acknowledgement and the indication to proceed.

Her stomach twisted as the ship emerged out of hyperspace, decelerating rapidly. 

Without thinking it she hit the ‘check’ switch for the secondary propulsion tank. The pirates at the galley would reach the engine room first and discover the body. She assumed the pirate at Skywalker’s heels had commed the rest of them to let them know of her presence in the ship and the captain’s fate.

It was possible he was too distracted following Skywalker around though. On impulse she jammed the signal to the comms on the main deck. If he hadn’t commed them, now he wouldn’t be able to. Even if he had, this meant he wouldn’t be able to update them on her whereabouts. 

Her eye stopped at the light for the secondary propulsion tank. The pirates were soon to be busy anyway.

It was possible that they’d think Skywalker killed Mahas.

It was possible that they’d attack him for it.

She didn’t have time to dwell on that. She took out her datapad and messaged Karrde’s people with the coordinates. A message returned almost instantly. They were at the border the Gaulus sector already, only a few lightyears away. It would only be a microjump to get to her. 

Next, she toggled through Skywalker’s encrypts and messaged NRI. Karrde’s people would get to the _Jackal_ first, but chances were Skywalker would be too occupied to message his own people himself, and she was definitely not taking him with her.

She looked over at where Selmur was cuffed up. She might have to take the first mate though. It didn’t seem like such a terrible idea to haul him back to Vir. He could tell Baron Vir himself what happened to his daughter. 

Mara frowned. She had to finish up here, and with Skywalker around, it wouldn’t be easy. It’d be doubly hard dragging Selmur with her. Skywalker was soon to approach with a pirate trailing after him. Again, there was only so much time blast doors could buy.

“Alright, Bareth Selmur, I have very good news for you,” she announced after a moment of deliberation. “You get to buy your life back.”

She walked over to him, pressed the muzzle of her blaster against his thigh and pulled the trigger.

\--

The alarms suddenly shut off and the entire deck seemed to groan. Luke felt his stomach knot in a way that could only mean one thing. 

“We just dropped out of hyperspace.” Strilath cursed. “Bareth’s probably dead.”

Luke stretched out with the Force, wishing desperately the pirate had stayed behind. “He’s not.”

Strilath’s head turned sharply in his direction. “Kriffin’ creepy as shavit,” he mumbled. “What else can you do?”

Luke was too occupied reaching out further. Mara was as dim as she’d been, shielding tight. He needed to get to her and get them both out of this blasted ship before she made the situation worse. 

“Bounty hunter still at the bridge?” 

Luke shook his head. She was, but Strilath of all people didn't need to know that. “I'm not sure.”

"What good are you," Strilath muttered, going for his comm. “Dunn? Come in, Dunn” as Luke felt Mara back on the move

They’d come up to the double doors sealing the bridge. Luke stared at them with the same dismay that he’d looked at the inner doors to the captain and first mate's quarters. Strilath stepped forward. 

“I got the override code.”

The doors slid open a second later, showing a wheezing Bareth cuffed to the weapons array sensor, a gruesome blaster burn conspicuous at his thigh. Luke went for the medkit, eyes on the vent above. She'd already cleared the damn room. Where was she going? He almost took off after, but stopped.

What if Mara _had_ gotten the detonator? His mind flashed back to the holds, Mara struggling like a caged animal to get her blaster to shoot at Dunn. The captain's body. His stomach turned.

“What the kriff happened?” Luke heard Strilath shout at Bareth.

Luke had the sobering feeling that if Mara had the detonator, the situation wouldn't get any easier to defuse. Not the way she was now...Small wonder she hadn't gotten them all killed already.

“She--she killed the captain! I came in and saw --”

“I know that!” Strilath cut him off. “I mean now. Where'd they go?””

Bareth blinked quickly. “She said she had no time. She’s--she’s heading to the others. More bang for her creds.” 

Strilath went for his comm again and made a frustrated growl. Luke crouched by Bareth, distractedly looking for a bacta patch in the kit.

He needed to know if Mara had the detonator.

“She--she jammed them and took out the ship’s intercom,” Bareth moaned, panic all over his sense. “Said she’ll come--come back for me when--when she’s done --,” he finished with a yelp as Luke slapped it on his leg.

How to ask without inciting any more suspicions? He didn't want to push any of them too far.

Strilath made a face. “Quit the sniveling.”

“I don’t see you with a kriffin’ blasted leg, Strilath, close kriffin' range,” Bareth yelled. “Did you karkin’ see what she did to the captain?”

“What did she say?” Luke repeated, tapping the first mate's shoulder.

Strilath ignored Bareth as he looked at the nav computer.

“Kriff! She just karkin' opened him up like --”

“Bareth!” Luke interrupted, drawing some more calm into himself. “I think--”

“I’m not spooked. Seen worse.” Strilath looked at Bareth sharply. “No, we gotta corner him--”

Bareth looked up at him. “You deaf, Strilath? It’s a fraggin' _her_.”

“It can be a kowakian monkey-lizard for all I care. Only reason she got the captain and you is because you didn’t know she was here. We know now.”

“She was looking for something,” Luke murmured. “We need to know what she told you.” 

“Maybe it was in the contract,” Bareth put in, his tone more normal now that the painkiller had started to take effect on his leg. “Captain said it’d be like that. Better blasted like a man than get branked like that. You don’t kriff with bluebloods.”

Luke shook his head. “I don’t think it was that.” 

Wariness had come over Strilath’s face.

Bareth’s eyes were on Luke. “How the kriff would you know?”

Luke shrugged. Steeling himself, he reached out with the Force and the cuffs clicked open. “I just do," he said slowly. "What did she ask you, Bareth?” 

The first mate gasped. “Shavit, did you just--”

“Just answer the man’s question,” Strilath snapped, taking it in stride. Luke relaxed fractionally.

Bareth’s eyes went wide before narrowing at Strilath. “In front of him?” He tipped his head in Luke's direction.

Luke’s gaze slid towards Strilath, his own unease increasing again.

“He knew something was wrong with the captain.” Strilath frowned. “Says boss hired him. For all the extras.”

Bareth’s face turned pinched. He looked over at the open cuffs as he rubbed his wrists. “What?" he muttered. "No.”

Luke fixed the first mate with an even stare, keeping track of Strilath from the corner of his eye as he moved his hand just slightly towards where he'd concealed the lightsaber. “You sure about that?”

Bareth went pale as a sheet. “No. I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “Maybe. Didn’t tell me shavit about it.”

“Doesn’t kriffin’ matter now. Out with it." Strilath's sense remained the same and Luke let his hand drop. "What’d the drebble say?”

“She asked me about the firegems,” Bareth ground out. “About the detonator. Wanted to make sure no one blew her up with it.”

“Did you tell her?” Strilath’s hands clenched into fists.

“Of course, I didn’t tell her!” Bareth shot back. He pointed to his wounded leg. “She figured out she didn’t have enough time to yank it out of me. I told you,” he said from between clenched teeth. “She said she’s coming _back_.”

Something was off about the first mate’s sense. 

“Tell her what?” Luke pressed.

“I know where the detonator is. It’s safe. For now, anyway.”

That was true. In spite of the mess, Luke breathed the easiest since the situation had spiraled. That meant there were options. 

“How did the karkin’ bounty hunter find out about the gems?” Strilath let out a disgusted noise. 

“Maybe the captain--the kriff does it matter now.” Bareth shook his head. “She knows where they are and she’s going out the dock to get rid of them now that we’re out of hyperspace. She’ll loop back for us once she’s done.”

“I’m not about to wait for that shavit.” Strilath pounded a fist on the console and veered back towards the corridor, blaster back in hand.

“Strilath!”

“Wait!” Luke called out. He took two steps towards him. “You can’t--”

“Stonn!” Bareth called. He grunted sharply in frustration. “Stonn. The detonator!”

Luke stopped.

“We have to get it.” Bareth shook his head. “Karkin’ hothead. Didn’t even let me tell him she took to the blasted vents.” He pulled himself up, wincing. The painkiller probably meant he didn’t feel much in his leg, for better or worse. “Not thinking. You ain’t gonna get rid of a professional that easy. Captain knew that -- was why we tried to keep to Outer Rim. Takes a special kind to go that far for a job.”

Luke stared at him weighing the issue of the gems. He wasn’t sure he trusted the first mate. Something was off about him in the Force, even if what he’d said about the detonator was true. He was certain about that, at least. 

“I don’t like the idea of carrying bombs on the ship. Puts us all in danger.”

“The least of our worries now, ain’t it?” the first mate replied darkly. “Were gonna use ‘em for the job, but now it doesn’t matter. Priority’s flushing her out. Stri’s right about one thing, it’s a shavit idea to stay here and wait for her to come back. We need to get the detonator just to make sure.”

Luke looked down the corridor where Strilath had gone. “Make sure what?”

Bareth opened and closed his hands. “Maybe the boys downstairs will corner her and that’ll be that. But what if they don’t? She killed the captain right under our nose.”

Luke flinched. Right under _his_ nose. Not just the captain. The knowledge was staggering. 

He put it aside.

“If she does come back, I’m not gonna be able to do a whole lot for myself like this.” Bareth gestured to his leg. “That detonator in hand changes things. Can’t do it alone though.”

“You want me to help you get the detonator?”

Bareth smiled. It was as ugly as always. “You got something better to do, Stonn?”

\--

Mara continued crawling through the vents towards where she sensed the rest of the pirates.

If she were fast enough she could kill them all before Skywalker could reach her. She had a couple of nasty tricks up her sleeve yet.

Mara had felt the pirates split into two groups as she neared the galley, two pirates went towards the engine room -- probably to check if there was a hyperdrive problem that had made them drop out. They’d see the light indicating a check needing to be done on the second propulsion tank. That would lead to them finding Crofin’s body, and being none the wiser, they’d go after Skywalker. 

If he took them out that made her job easier. It wouldn’t be ideal, but ideal went out the canopy the moment he made it back on the _Jackal_. He was long overdue for another hard lesson in her trade anyway. She was done protecting his damned virtue. 

For now, she concentrated on the two heading in the direction of the holds. Mara wasn’t sure what they were up to there, possibly for shift and routine maintenance -- maybe news of her hadn't reached them yet. The alarms stopped blaring and she raised her head. Skywalker and whoever he was with had reached the bridge. 

Mara took it as a signal to hurry. Judging the space close enough, she slid out of the vent and onto the crates at the holds she’d set up before getting to the captain’s cabin. She climbing down stealthily to the mazelike landscape of the holds. 

Two at once would be tough to pull without telegraphing her position. If something happened, and one of them escaped, her position would be revealed to all of them and the whole thing could get messier. She’d need to separate them somehow. 

Mara searched around her, the easiest thing would be a distraction, but she doubted she could summon the concentration to push down a heavy crate. For now, she followed the pirates from a prudent distance on top of the crates. 

“If there’s someone onboard,” she overheard one of them say -- Sedric. “Our best chance is to do a sweep and smoke them out.”

So some news had reached them.

“Dunn said they were in the crew quarters when he commed,” came Pter’s worried reply. “Could be anywhere by now.”

“Yeah, let’s just get the concs and lock up.”

Concussion grenades. They were going to the weapons locker towards the bow of the ship in the holds.

Now aware of where they’d go, Mara wandered towards the aft and climbed down the crates. She spied a loadlifter droid in the corner. That would do. She shot towards it, ducking between the crates to turn it on, clicking off the collision safeguards, then took off in the other direction, catching up to a few meters behind Sedric and Pter from the other side of the stacks of crates that lined up a haphazard path to the front of the holds.

Behind them the droid smashed against some crates.

“What was that?” Sedric’s voice rang out.

“Sounds like one of the loadlifters.”

“Why would it be on?” 

“Did you guys see anyone heading to the holds?” Sounded like he was talking into his comm. Guys? Come in guys.” Pter grunted in irritation. 

“Whoever it is couldn’t have gone down the level and the corridors without being sighted by Dunn,” Sedric said. 

“They have to still be uplevel somewhere. Probably a timer glitch. Always something. Blast it. I’ll go turn it off. We can’t have it karkin’ up the cargo.”

“It’ll power down by itself,” Sedric argued.

“Not before wrecking everything. We just dropped out of hyperspace, who knows how long before we dust the drebble and Enif gets us going. That’s a long time for it to be karkin’ shavit up.”

Sedric sighed. “Get your choobies untwisted, I’ll go. Go get the concs. You know more about what to get than I do anyway.”

“Well, hurry up, they’re waiting for us uplevel.”

Mara snuck behind one of the crates, blaster in hand waiting for her moment. Pter could go get all the grenades he wanted. They’d never saved pirates from her before.

As soon as Sedric approached the loadlifter, she slid away from behind the crate just a pace behind him, aimed point blank at the back of his head and fired.

The high pitched whir of servomotors and crash of collapsing crates covered up the sound of the shot and the sound of the body crumpling to the ground.

Now to clean off Pter. 

“Yeah,” Pter seemed to be speaking in a comm, by the time she came up closer to where he’d exited the locker. “We’re trying -- okay, okay, slow down Enif! We’ll be right there.” Pter’s voice raised suddenly, “Meet me upstairs Dreiz! I gotta go!”

No, that wouldn’t be convenient at all. 

Pter was exiting too fast. She stopped and aimed, wishing she’d kept the DL-44.

“Hey!” she called.

Pter turned and she fired. 

It hit him, but not squarely. He rolled over to a nearby crate and Mara knew he was going for his blaster. She broke into a run, Force sense screeching warning, and she threw herself to the side as heat shot by her.

She registered a click and there was a brief flash beside her the impact of it made her roll less than graceful, throwing her against a crate.

Smoke hung in the air. Mara couldn’t see Pter, but she heard him on his comm. 

“The bounty hunter is here you hear me? Couldn’t get a good look. I have some concs, might have gotten him. Now’s not the time Enif! Just comm Stri and them and let ‘em know!”

She scrambled up, trying to keep from coughing, eye taking in the crates arranged several meters above. She caught a glimpse of Pter’s blurry form peeking out to see among the smoke in her general direction. 

Pirates, Mara thought grabbing the side of the crate and pulling herself up it and towards the next stacked on top, are invariably short on imagination.

From her vantage point several crates above, she didn’t have enough range and put the holdout back in her holster, leaving her satchel behind. She sped up, jumping between crates, seeing Pter stand and begin jogging towards the exit.

He wouldn’t get away. 

She wouldn’t _let_ him.

Mara sped up even more, breaking into a run. There were only two more stacks of crates before her and she made the decision quickly, mostly out of gut instinct than calculation. 

She jumped.

Her fall was cushioned by Pter who hit the ground hard with a half shout, her weight on him like a projectile, his blaster clattering away. 

A secondary thunk of impact resonated through the back of her skull, but she still managed to grab out her holdout from her forearm holster, aim at Pter’s skull at point blank and fire. His body went slack. 

\--

The atmosphere of the ship was becoming heavy with fear, Luke felt it ratcheting up like cold after nightfall. 

Bareth cursed from where he was leaning heavily against Luke. “Can’t comm Strilath from the turbolift. Or anyone else.”

Luke flinched, feeling the snap of anguish as the doors opened and he walked forward, helping Bareth along. That had been Dreiz. Mara was at the holds. 

“Stonn?”

He decided Bareth didn’t need to concern himself with that. “What?”

“You looked strange there --” The first mate's comm sounded.

“Bareth? We're at the--”

“Enif,” Bareth barked into the device. “She’s in the kriffin’ vent system. We have a--”

“I figured! Found Mahas. What’s left of him an--”

“Is Strilath there yet?”

“No, but Ma--”

“I don’t give two shavits about Mahas!” Bareth shouted “You and Dunn be on the lookout, you hear? Get your blaster out and get yourself into a safe spot. Whoever it is isn’t kriffin’ around. They got the captain. You hear me? The captain is dead.”

It was then that Luke felt the second spark out -- Rennek.

His stomach coiled up. He was wasting time, he needed to intercept her before she made the situation worse, but doing so meant leaving the pirates to their own devices. There were still the firegems to take into account. He trusted neither the pirates nor Mara with the detonator. The thought brought with it a stab of pain.

How could she be so far gone?

Why hadn't he seen it? His stomach twisted some more. 

Had he not _wanted_ to? 

The thought almost made him miss the jolt of his Force sense and he bit off an instinctive “Get down!” as he ducked, letting Bareth fall. A flurry of bolts sizzled over their heads just as he called out, “Don’t shoot!”

“What the kriff!” Bareth yelled, raising himself on his forearms. "I thought you idiots were at the engine room!"

“Bareth, Stonn that you?” Dunn called out from the blaster smoke in front of the shield generator room hatchway.

“Of karkin’ course it’s me and Stonn, you nitwit!”

“Enif said to shoot at anything that came down the corridor,” the younger man protested. “Found Mahas in the alt propulsion tank,” his voice shook a little at the next, “All fucked up. Not as bad as the captain but --”

“Strilath hasn’t come this way?” Luke intervened.

“No,” Dunn replied, his eyes flickering nervously. “Haven’t seen Stri or anyone. Told them we got a bounty hunter on board and Renek and Dreiz are loading up on concs to smoke him out. Enif thought the shield gen room is better to protect. He’s tryin’ to get to Rennek and Stri, but no answer." He planted his feet and raised his head. "We gonna go kill the drebble or what?” 

\--

Mara rolled away from Pter's body. She crouched, reaching up with one hand to feel the sore spot at the back of her head. Not a bad hit, just a light bump. 

She stood and stretched, feeling for the first time in ages that everything was falling into place, the universe growing comprehensible again. 

She flipped the body over with some effort and grabbed the sounding comm.

“Rennek, Rennek,” Clar was calling, dread in his voice through the line. “Come in, Rennek.”

Mara pondered it for a second. It was a risky move to announce oneself, but Rennek had given up her location anyway. She was certain she had nothing to fear from these insects. A target blinded by anger and fear was also a target likely to make mistakes. She seized the comm.

“Rennek Pter is no longer with us. Neither is Dreiz Sedric for that matter. But sit tight, Mr. Clar. We wouldn’t want your friends to get lonely, would we?”

She stayed on the line long enough to hear his quick intake of breath, the shake in his voice when he cursed at her gearing up to shoot pointless threats.

Mara closed the line and grabbed the two pack concussion grenades Pter had acquired, huffing in disapproval. Surely, she merited twice as that. They'd see. She climbed back up the crate and the next, making her way back to where she’d dropped her satchel.

She squatted down to get it and shoved the grenades in, reaching out quickly for a sense of the presences around her on the level. By the shield generator room. She quickly pulled back before Skywalker could sense her. The little that she got from him incidentally was that he was busy. Hopefully that would hold until she was done.

There wasn’t a vent entrance into the shield generator room, which hampered her path to the pirates. It was just as well, Mara reflected. Skywalker was with them. She wouldn’t be able to do much right now. That was fine. They'd come to her. 

Four pirates left. Four out of twelve. 

Only Skywalker stood between her and them. 

Mara squared her shoulders as she stood up, surveying the maze of crates below her. 

This was her ship now. 

_Alright_ , she thought with a smile. It'd been much too long since she'd felt like this. _Let’s play_.


	21. Momentum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some canon **atypical** violence. Graphic.

__  
__  
_Are you insane like me?_  
_Been in pain like me?_  
_Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me?_  
_Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?_ [[x](https://youtu.be/zRHNi3QfFlE)]  


  


  


“She’s at the holds.” Enif came forward, blaster in hand, from the interior of the shield generator room.

“Let’s go then,” Dunn called out as Enif checked the power pack of his blaster.

Luke reached out through the Force. There was no movement from the holds, the entry to which was only a few meters before them along the corridor. He felt Mara there as a shadowy outline that vanished as soon as he approached it, leaving him floating in his tight muscles and swirling recriminations. Between that and the fear and anger all around him, it wasn’t an easy thing to find his calm.

“Wait -- how do you know?” Bareth’s eyes roved restlessly over the machinery

A problem of focus. Luke breathed, putting all the gruesomeness of the past hour aside. The extent of the lying was before him, but he shoved it aside. Even the detonator was seeming less significant with every passing second. What to do seemed breathtakingly simple on the face of it: Just get to Mara and get out. 

“Just commed that she got Rennek and Dreiz." Enif's face was drawn. "Gloating about it. We gotta go.”

“No! Hold on--” Bareth cried out but Enif and Dunn were already out the hatchway. He cursed viciously. “Just like Strilath.”

Luke darted in their direction. Bad enough Strilath had rushed ahead. “Enif! Dunn! Wait!”

“Stonn! The detonator--”

“Doesn’t matter!” He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He just needed to rush past them, get to Mara _first_ \--

“Fine, it’s your hide out the airlock!” 

The Force blared enough warning for Luke to turn around from the open hatchway. “What?”

“No one pays attention. No one stops to think,” Bareth seethed as he dragged himself up from where he'd been leaning against the bulkhead. “I’m not about to chance it that that blood bitch come back for me.” He hauled himself up with effort to one of the side consoles and raised the red emergency flap of a button. “Kriff them. Kriff the job. Kriff everything.”

He pressed it and there was a mechanical whir as various sensor lights lit up a display of the ship on the screen, the cargo hold blinking yellow.

“Airlock activation commencing. Cargo hold pressure equalizing--”

_Mara!_

Before Luke knew it he was shoving Bareth from the console, slapping at the controls. 

“Airlock activation disengaged.”

“You karkin’ idiot,” Bareth wheezed from the deck, pushing himself up on his good leg. “That’s the end of our problems right there.”

A wave of disgust rolled over Luke as the implications sank in. “By the time it engages it won't be just Strilath -- it'll be the rest of them too! Your own crew!”

“I'm not dyin' for them!” Bareth tried to push himself away from Luke and further into the room. 

Luke went after him. He couldn't leave Bareth on his own.

"Hey!" Bareth protested as Luke grabbed him. "Get the hell off--"

"You're not causing any more trouble," Luke said from between clenched teeth. He didn’t have time to deal with Bareth’s antics, and pulled him forward by the neck of his flightsuit, scanning for where to leave the pirate. Nothing seemed workable. Luke could feel the passing of seconds like the ticking of his pulse.

“For kark’s sake, Stonn!” Bareth flailed, managing to break away. “Stonn, come on!"

Luke reached forward and grabbed the first mate again, getting a better hold and pulling him towards the front of the room with a hard, Force-assisted yank, mind working feverishly. Dunn and Enif were an added complication to Strilath. He would have to be even faster than them to get to Mara and get them both out before the situation degenerated further.

"Kriff, Stonn," Bareth hissed. "You're stronger than you look. It was a joke, man! Joke! Of course I wouldn't do that to my crew. Go do your thing! I'll just --I'll just be here--"

"I don't trust you." With no other option, Luke dragged Bareth forward to the hatchway. The ship's locker at the holds was his best bet. He just needed to get there. “I'm not leaving you to blow everyone out the airlock because you’re scared.” 

Bareth kept trying to pry Luke's hold off as Luke pulled him along. "Where-where the kriff you taking me?" 

"Cargo hold."

"Kriff no! That's where that drebble is! No! There’s contracts and there’s fraggin' contracts, Stonn!" He swung and Luke easily blocked, wrenched the first mate's arm back and slammed him against the corridor's bulkhead, the first mate's cheek slapping against the durasteel.

"I'd rather not have to hurt you," Luke warned. “But I don't have time for this. I'll leave you somewhere safe.”

“I kriffin' _was_ somewhere safe!" Bareth shouted. “Don't you karkin' get it? They’re not paying for plasma!” But he didn't swing when Luke released him, but neither was he cooperative, pulling against Luke's hold. Luke kept him at arms length, all but dragging the much larger man down the corridor. “They’re paying her for blood! Our blood!” 

There was no point in replying. 

“Be reasonable!” Bareth struggled with increasing desperation, but his wounded leg meant he had little leverage and Luke could easily resume dragging him down the corridor. “Kriffin' think it through! You wanna be tough, fine! But don't drag me into it. I can--I can just stay here".

Not that Luke wasn't tempted, but leaving him would still mean the panicking first mate loose about the ship. Even with a blasted leg, there was no telling what else Bareth could do. The near fiasco with the airlock had been too close.

“It’s a fraggin' blood contract! You know what that means? Butchery! Kriff--” Bareth switched approaches and the next came out cajoling, "Let’s -- let’s just get that detonator. It’s--It's smart. And--and you _owe_ me. Your tricks with the cuffs. Think I don't remember? I didn’t out you to Stri. I had your back, Stonn. I know what happens to freaks--”

Luke fixed him with a dark look without slowing his strides.

“I mean people that can do things. Weird things-- Ow! Stonn, watch the grip! Come on! Come on, let's just get the fraggin' detonator. Tricks are not enough. Saw a guy once who could do all sorts of crazy shavit get his brains blown out by --"

“She’s not going to believe you’d trigger it anyway,” Luke muttered. She wouldn't be switching to killing the pirates if she did. She'd neutralized the first mate, made sure _he_ wouldn't get to it, and then gone for the rest.

Something nagged at him, but he had no time to puzzle it out. It didn't matter what her plan was. The important thing was to keep Bareth out of play and get to Mara.

“We don’t know that! Kriff Stonn! You have to listen!”

Luke stopped answering as Bareth’s hysterical appeals continued. 

“It’s still not too late. We can still go back.” More desperation came through the first mate’s voice as they arrived to the hatchway that led to the holds. “Just throw the kriffin' switch and it’s all done. All karkin' done. There’ll be other jobs. Other crews. Let’s do this easy now. Easy now. Come on.”

Luke punched the controls and the door slid open. He set his jaw and stepped in, yanking Bareth in behind him.

“I don’t do easy.”

\--

Parsto was sniffing around the second section of the holds by the time Mara had closed and locked the airlock sectioning doors that lead to the docking bay stairs. After she was done, Mara backtracked into the area that housed the miles long conveyor system that moved the largest, heaviest crates from the docking bay to a smaller temporary storage space in ascending and descending tracks. A secondary aerial conveyor system moved lighter material and stretched out further, crossing the temporary storage space and reaching the end of the section, just before the primary storage where the maze of crates were. The entire second section as a whole was traversable mainly through two straight paths, passages, really, that ran along the opposite sides of the arena sized space, and cut through the holds in their entirety all the way to the docking bay stairs. 

Mara surveyed the area before her. A dense web of maintenance catwalks that crossed and went up several floors up the entire room were accessible from the two clear paths beside the bulkheads in this area.

If Parsto was stupid enough to take one of the bulkhead paths, he'd be an easy target from the lower catwalks. 

He was close though, and Mara only had enough time to run to the main console at the center of the area to turn on the conveyor belt, intending to draw Parsto’s attention. She had ample concealment outside of the three direct paths. Mara tucked herself under one of the gear motors of the two-meter wide winding tracks, a pressure vessel about the size of her forearm keeping her from view as well. 

Cover was still iffy. While the conveyor belt tracks might offer some protection from blaster bolts, the pressure vessels -- kept at either side along the belt in case of fire emergencies, would be a hazard around blaster fire.

Parsto didn’t choose the open path. He wove through the lower conveyor belts, keeping behind the support stands and inclines of the lower tracks, his own blaster drawn.

Mara clenched her jaw as she tracked him. The same measures that provided concealment also blocked off clean shots. She stealthily made her way up to one of the stairs towards the catwalks. Altitude was good no matter what. 

She couldn’t take too long, but at least she didn’t have to worry about Parsto’s friends just yet. They were at the entrance to the holds; the size of the holds and their caution meant she had some time before they arrived at this area. She'd lock them in with her through the next set of airlock doors once she was done here; she couldn’t risk Skywalker wandering in. 

Skywalker’s Force sense brushed against hers and she drew away letting her pull on the Force go. Bad idea to use the Force, especially now that Skywalker knew -- and he did, just that light touch carried in it an echo of pain like the first ripple of a tidal wave. There was more too, a pull that was even more unbearable. She didn’t even have words for it. 

Go away. Just go away.

He hadn’t seemed near just yet, at least. 

She felt the trill of warning from the Force and ducked just in time for a blaster bolt to go flying past her head and onto the bulkhead. Shavit. How had he seen her? Mara threw herself down under the shower of sparks, came back up to return fire in Parsto’s general direction as she scrambled up.

Parsto took off in the opposite direction. He had to be trying to get altitude as well. So much for the idea of taking him out as easy as the last two. She rushed up the catwalk. 

Parsto had to be somewhere in front of her, but the walkways and the cargo-grabbing claw that rhythmically raised and lowered blocked her view. An incline conveyor hummed beside her part of the stairs, going up another half level or so audible over the chugging of rotors and hissing of hydraulics in the air.

Mara’s Force sense had her ducking again as blaster fire screamed above her. She crawled up the stairs, hands at the grated steel, until she got to a beam and could shoot back. A loud clang reverberated through the air as she did. The loadlifter? Couldn't be. Too far.

More blaster fire exploded into sparks at the side of the beam. Parsto must have changed position. She lifted her head slightly. Where was he now?

Another clang.

More shots sizzled her way. Mara fired from between the sparks as she darted forward, eye catching on movement below her.

The clang was coming from the crane lowering the cargo-grabbing claw, from the mechanism that pounded down before swiveling the claw to grasp, pincer-like, at non-existent crates near the end of the conveyor belt, raise and drop them to another conveyor.

More shots. Mara slid her holdout back in her forearm holster, left her satchel on the catwalk, and swung herself over the railing and onto the ascending belt. The plasteel of the track's raised sides had to provide some concealment. The shots died down. She raised herself on her hands and knees to peek out.

Parsto lurked against one of the beams. He grew more visible as the belt went up to just below the catwalk in front of her. He didn't move from his vantage point, probably searching for her. She might be able to haul herself up to the catwalk and have Parsto in range.

Mara stood cautiously, reaching up to get a hold on the railing. Parsto had started moving in her direction, but he was still searching...and wasn’t looking low enough. 

He’d come to at the end of her section just as she was pulling her legs up. No time to reach for her blaster -- warning -- and she rolled into the catwalk, the heat from the shot warm at her flightsuited arm. She sidestepped to avoid another as she came up.

Mara caught Parsto’s eyes widening as he realized that she was sprinting _towards_ him. She batted the arm holding the blaster away, spun to grab at the side of his neck, right leg stomping down at his hip, hauling herself up. She ended on his shoulders, left leg around his neck, wrenching his head back.

"Kriffin' bitch!"

She twisted her hips to continue into the neck snap, throwing her weight to the side.

Parsto hit the railing instead of the floor.

They fell.

Weightlessness and impact. Air rushing out of her lungs, the soft vibration of the belt under her back. Couldn't have been too far because she could raise her head without difficulty. In the next seconds she was on her feet. Had the fall taken care of Parsto? 

Alarm had her lifting her arms to block a hit from a pressure vessel Parsto was swinging. Even with the painful forearm block, the force of it made her stumble back, left foot foot skidding on the rail beside the moving belt. As she fell she lashed out with her other foot at the pressure vessel.

It clattered off, and she was immediately flipping onto her stomach, Parsto sliding up her lower back for a pin. She tucked her shoulder under her, and rolled to the side, slamming Parsto down in front of her on his back.

Mara flicked her wrist for her holdout.

The blow caught her on the side of her head and the world reeled back, the belt right under her again. Why wasn't the holdout in her hand? 

Parsto’s weight pinned her as he swung at her face. Mara lifted herself up, blocking several blows, and turning her head as she brought her heels against her thighs and raised her hips up hard. He fell forward with a shout, and she curled free -- almost. His hand closed on her shoulder, pushing it down. She threw her head forward, missed his face by inches. Kept flicking her wrist. Nothing. Nothing.

She _needed_ her holdout.

Impact made her vision waver, and she kept bucking, bridging her hips up, keeping him off balance, his punches off center and lacking power. But she had not choice but to break her defense to flick her wrist. Mechanism didn’t respond.

Why wasn't it responding? 

Mara gave up on her holdout, attention back to curling, scooting, sliding out from under Parsto inch by inch. Kriffing holster must have jammed when she took the hit with the pressure vessel.

She could almost pull her knee up. Just a few more inches. She was bucking and scooting so much Parsto's blows were missing. All but one. It thumped at the side of her head, suddenly making everything feel far, making her arms slacken.

 _Clang_. 

Mara went up on the balls of her toes, shoved her hips up, bringing her knee up behind Parsto right after she came down. His weight fell forward, but she'd bucked him off enough that she could pull her right knee to her chest. He raised up on his knees, trying for balance. 

She snapped out her leg, heel connecting with his middle, jumped up on the next clang, and drove in with her shoulder. Her full weight smashed into him. Parsto lost his footing with shout, boots scrapping on the belt, as he went, and then it was like slamming into a wall. Parsto didn't fall.

He screamed instead.

Mara lifted her head and sprang back, watching in confusion as the crane pulled Parsto up. His cries grew shrill as his hands scrabbled uselessly at the metal behind him, its hooks buried deep into his back. 

Oh. She must have pushed him right _into_ the claw.

Mara didn't linger. She grabbed her holdout, bypassing the mechanism. She could let gravity do its work, only a matter of time before the claw ripped through him and he fell.

But Parsto was hanging target practice, and there was no substitute for certainty. 

Mara pulled the trigger. Parsto stopped flailing. He didn't fall even when the crane lowered again.

A minute to catch her breath later, she started moving back towards her satchel. The doors would have to be next.

Cridmeen and Clar had arrived.

\--

Luke could feel Enif and Dunn at the distance, probably midway down the primary storage area. Strilath was in the second section, near the boundary between the conveyor area and the docking bay. That was where Mara was, sense muted.

“Look, okay, detonator is right here, in the kriffin' holds!” Bareth continued his pleading, his voice lowering. 

Luke stopped for a second to hit the mechanism to bring the lights to full power for this section, not releasing his one handed hold on Bareth, who had at least continued trying to talk his way out. 

“It’s not even far!”

Luke went on, pulling the first mate behind him. The locker was right in front of him and Bareth. Luke hurried even more. 

"What about credits? I got some!"

They had finally reached the locker and Luke shoved Bareth in. He landed with a heavy thump on the deck. “Stay here.”

The first mate had whirled back in a second, voice raising to the pitch it'd been before. “You can’t karkin' leave me here! She'll find me!” Bareth scrambled forward, sweeping his arms through the tiny room tossing bottles of cleaning solution and lubricant all over the floor, off balance from his leg. “You can’t! You can’t!” 

Luke was about to turn when he saw Bareth reach under one of the storage containers.

He almost rolled his eyes.

The blaster was torn out of Bareth’s hands and the pirate sprang back with a gasp. His wounded leg folded and landed on his back and started crawling away, dragging his injured leg.

“That's enough,” Luke said just as the Force blared warning. Bareth was getting a snap blaster from his boot. 

He was done, Luke decided. He ignored the disorienting feeling as his hand closed around the lightsaber's hilt, the shape and weight of it off. Not his. 

It didn't matter. It wouldn't even matter if it _hadn't_ been his at one point, but it had been. He'd make it his again.

A vibrant arc of blue and two shots were deflected into the walls of the room, sending sparks and more bottles flying. 

Luke let the Force disguise dissolve as the sparks flickered away. As it did, a loosening feeling came over him. Maintaining the technique had taken effort. Letting it go felt like taking a breath of fresh air, even in this polluted space. 

Luke dropped his blade to middle guard. "Put it down."

Bareth's jaw dropped. “What the fuck.”

\--

Clar and Cridmeen were moving towards the conveyor area from the temporary storage between the first section and the second. Mara caught sight of them weaving around the stacks of crates and the loading carts beside the portside escape pods, one path over from the bulkhead passage across the holds.

Mara let them walk past her, keeping a stacks of crates between them and her, running to close the pair of airtight doors that blocked the area off from the primary storage where the maze of the containers were. The whole temporary storage was close enough to it that she could hear the loadlifter still slamming into crates from above the whirring of the conveyor trolleys overhead.

The locking process wasn’t laborious, Mara had closed the double doors that created the airlock enough times on the _Wild Karrde_ for their own in-space loading and unloading. Once the doors hissed shut, she could no longer hear the loadlifter in favor of the chugging and distant clang from the conveyor system. She caught back up to Clar and Cridmeen easily, and saw them by the cast plast strip curtains at the entrance to the conveyor area. The area was relatively clear. She should be able to at least pick one of them. The only problem was that from her current cover she didn't have enough range. Drifting closer meant being relatively unprotected when there was one of her to two of them.

“Shavit!” She heard one of them hiss, not quite going into a conveyor area. “We’re not going in.”

“Why?” The kid. “Oh, _kriff_. Oh kriff, kriff kriff.”

“It’s a shavit place to defend,” Clar noted, his voice steadier. "Stri shoulda never gone in there."

“We-we-we gotta get him d-down, oh kriff--”

“Forget that. Hey, hey,” Clar’s voice raised a little. “Nothing you can do for him ‘cept staying alive. Dunn! Keep it together!”

Mara inched forward, blaster ready. If she could take Clar out, the kid would be nothing, but the fact that the area was so clear was both upside and downside. While shooting one of them, she'd make herself too easy a target. It was best if she waited until they came closer. She followed them for a few minutes as they crossed the area, looking for the right spot.

She couldn't keep wasting time like this. They were going back to the doors to the primary storage area.

Mara felt Skywalker on the move precisely from that direction and gnashed her teeth. Shavit. Should have known Selmur would be useless.

She didn’t have time to wait and see what else her two quarry would do. With her free hand she reached into her satchel for one of the concussion grenades. She crouched down, flicked it's activation switch and rolled it into the stacks in the two pirates' direction, skittering and ducking as it detonated, sending crates and debris flying, smoke in the air. The lights were cut as the emergency system came up, the room bathed in red and yellow light. Alarms blared stridently as Mara ran towards the zone of the blast, holdout in hand.

The detonation leveled most of the stack of crates, not all. As far as she could tell the leftover stacks were left in a vaguely hexagonal formation, the floor now strewn with canisters, bottles and bits of plasteel. The pirates had to be somewhere within.

She focused, but was loathe to use the Force. Could she pick out voices? All the she could hear was the mechanical chugging of the conveyor belt, the distant clang of the claw. Mara crept around the crates around the area. Maybe some of them had landed on the pirates, making her job easier. She had to know. Gritting her teeth, she stretched with her sense-- 

They were alive. She stopped drawing from the Force as she felt Skywalker. That stanging idiot Selmur. She was going to deliver a lightly blaster-charred version of him to Vir at this rate. 

Cridmeen and Clar were close, but she hadn’t had time to figure out much else. She slunk forward, careful to keep as close to the crate closest to her as she could. 

A shadowy form came into view keeping himself tight against the edge of a crate maybe fifteen feet away. Thin and maybe a couple of inches taller than her. The kid. Cridmeen.

Warning coursed through her. She veered her head, stopping in her tracks. Above her on a crate across she spied the meaty face of the engineer, Clar. 

She shifted for a better look and her Force alarm reached a crescendo. He saw her! She spun to miss a blaster bolt, close enough that she felt the heat of it . A flurry of shots had her sprinting in Cridmeen’s direction.

The kid was shooting too, but he was not much of a marksman. Clar above was a higher concern. She zigzagged away from the kid’s shots, squeezing off a few of her own. 

“Enif!” the kid shouted, clearly panicking. All she needed was one clean shot. One.

But a screech of blaster fire and she hit the ground, searing pain at her upper arm. She rolled into cover, clenching her teeth against the burn. Left arm at least. One look confirmed it was worse than the one she’d gotten at Drenos. Kriff. 

She experimentally tried to roll it with a low hiss. It hurt like hell, but she could. Good sign. And it wasn't her shooting arm.

Mara carefully poked her head out over the side of the crate. The distraction meant she’d lost sight of Cridmeen. 

She blinked. They’d set up a trap. Clar up at the crates. Cridmeen bait below. 

Kriffing roachrats.

Which meant Clar was just waiting for her to come into view. If she didn’t, chances were Cridmeen would come back out. She glanced around the ruins of the crates around her, cautiously reaching for a nearby canister.

Biting back a grunt from the blaster burn, she tossed the canister to the side of the crate, down the path between it and other crates. It clattered once on the ground. Blaster fire punched through the air after it.

Mara popped her head out more as shots rang out maybe ten feet away. A blaster muzzle glinted in the distance from between some crates behind her. Cridmeen must have run the way she’d come. 

She darted out from her cover and behind the crate to the left, stealthily moving towards Cridmeen. She wished she had a better read on Clar, but it’d be easier to take out Cridmeen first.

As she crept towards Cridmeen, she let her satchel drop, holstered her blaster and took out her blade. If there was the least bit chance she could get a few seconds head start on Clar, she’d take it.

Mara approached. Cridmeen turned his head as she did. She jumped onto his back, legs clamping around his waist, left hand wrenching his head back by the hair, ignoring the burn as her other hand slashed out with her blade.

He'd dropped the blaster with a howl, bending forward and she couldn’t get the stability she wanted, but her blade did catch, making Cridmeen squeal. Her arm wasn't lined right, and while he was shouting. Her grip had grown slippery, she knew she wasn't doing enough damage. She almost lost her grip on her blade when his hand grabbed her arm, brushing the burn.

Mara let out a cry and lost all finesse, reversing her grip and stabbing her blade down between his back and his neck again and again. The pain in her arm was too distracting; she wasn’t hitting soft tissue. He threw himself back, probably meaning to slam her against the crate, but fell instead, all of his weight landing on her, her head swimming as it cracked against the ground. She dimly heard the blade clang away.

She’d lost seconds, but knew Cridmeen had scrambled to his feet. Instinct guided her movements on the ground, the twist of her body, her left leg stretching out in front of his shin, her other snaking between both of his. Cridmeen turned slightly as he went down, so she lifted her legs, scissoring them, pulling into the leg lock as he careened forward. His head hit the side of a crate with an audible thunk and he slid limply the rest of the way down. 

By then several shots were ringing out and she ducked, rolling away to where she'd come, eyes peeled to the top of the crates.

Cridmeen was prone, face down in a growing puddle of his own blood. Maybe she had succeeded in slitting his throat after all. She needed to make sure. Mara unholstered her blaster and aimed. 

A shot rang out over her head. The next was closer and Mara broke into a run towards where she'd left her satchel. 

She wasn't about to get shot for the kid. 

Right now it was more important to deal with Clar.

\--

The deck shook and Luke heard the cacophony of shots just on the other side of the sectioning doors that had been activated.

The doors had never been activated in all his time on the _Jackal_. Maybe one of the pirates had done it, wanting to lock Mara in or vice versa.

He went to the controls. He’d felt it when she’d killed Strilath. That had been shortly after locking Bareth in, blowing out the locker's access panel with the first mate's snap blaster. He'd hurried, but the first mate had cost him precious time. Dunn and Enif had already arrived to the area between the first and second sections. 

The door panel was unresponsive to the standard codes. Luke clenched a fist pounding it once on the mechanism. Of course it wouldn't.

Luke had tried to center himself and reach towards Mara, even as he'd crossed the holds at a breakneck pace. The same muteness continued, occasionally broken as she pulled on the Force incrementally, to locate presences he assumed. All that muteness was just another avoidance tactic. 

Lightsaber in hand, he set to work on the door. 

\--

Mara squinted in the direction from where she'd last heard the shots. By her estimate she must be a few stacks from the conveyor area. 

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Clar probably thought he had some advantage being able to easily get enough of a visual of her from his height. He was approaching, trying to push her towards the area between the crates and the conveyor system. She'd have very little cover there.

Mara craned her head. If she was closer to the port or starboard bulkheads she'd go for the access stairs to the catwalks. Clar had managed to keep her close to the center of the temporary storage. She couldn't forget about Skywalker off at the first section's doors. She'd lose too much time if she tried to veer off now.

Her holdout didn't have any range to deal with Clar where she suspected he was either...

She still had two concs though.

Mara hurriedly dug through her satchel. One conc. She distinctly remembered taking three from Pter. One must have fallen out at some point. That was fine. One should be enough to neutralize Clar's advantage. Blast him to pieces, _if_ she were lucky.

Mara hadn’t heard him shooting in a while. Now that she had the luxury of a few minute’s safety, it came to her. The marksmanship. The ploy of setting one up high while the other skulked about. Someone like Cridmeen couldn’t have thought something like that up. 

Clar had to have some kind of combat background. 

Mara's thumb rubbed idly over the grenade. That didn’t exactly change the equation, but it did mean that she should try more caution. She grimaced. Her instincts, while serviceable, were not what they’d been once. She had that burn on her left arm to show for it. 

The memories, brought with them thoughts of her last blaster burn...and Skywalker. She needed to finish this quick.

Chances were Clar, whatever his background, was rusty too. He was the ship’s engineer.

Mara looked at the grenade in her hand and dropped the satchel again.

Game on.

Taking a steeling breath, she rushed out from behind the crate running evasively as the bolts rushed by, jumping and clawing her way up one of the sides of the crates, feeling the deep sting as a bolt passed too close to her calf and jumped onto the side, flicking the switch and flinging the concussion grenade to the top of the crates behind it as she did. She threw herself into the ground in a tumble.

Bolts continued to whoosh around her, until the explosion hit, launching her off her feet and a few meters forward.

The deck trembled as several crates in that direction tumbled to the ground, smoke rolling out. Closer than she'd been when she'd thrown the first grenade, Mara waited a few minutes for the emergency system to dispel the worst of the smoke and traced her way back over to where she’d last heard the shots. 

The Force rang with alarm. Mara tossed herself to the side just in time to avoid getting a full blow from something -- canister? She wasn't sure. The side of it hit with a painful thud that almost sent her sprawling. Mara got back to an alarmingly unsteady standing position, her blaster having dropped along the way. 

Mara whirled into a high kick at his neck. He stumbled, but didn’t fall, but whatever he'd tried to hit her with crashed and rolled away. 

No time to look around for her blaster.

Clar turned and narrowed his eyes. He looked worse for wear, the skin of his cheek red and inflamed, face littered with scrapes, his flightsuit torn in several places. “It’s you.”

Mara cocked her head, eyes still scanning for her blaster. Clar was smaller than Parsto, not by much, but heavier. The absent blaster was an unknown variable. 

She hated those.

“The kriffin’ rugger,” Clar said tonelessly.

Mara felt her brows raise. Surely, the blood and grime from the day would cover it up.

“Very good. Even the captain didn’t recognize me. Or your friends.”

Clar's expression darkened slightly. Good. 

She canted her head. Where was her damn blaster? “You don’t shoot like an engineer.”

His eyes were scrutinizing. “You don’t kill like a bounty hunter.”

“I’m not a bounty hunter.” Kriff the blaster. Mara swung. He shoved her arm away, blocked the cross to his head, grabbing her arm. She managed to turn her face and tuck her chin, so his blow landed off center and she used the distraction to twist out of it through a backflip, ruined somewhat when she tripped on something. Before she hit the deck she'd latched onto his grip enough for a mediocre toss.

Just about three feet from him...her blaster.

His head had turned in her direction, following her line of sight, and her arm was down and then whipping out, her second blade whizzing in the air. She ran after it, dismayed that her throw hadn't been well centered, the blade clanging off somewhere. It did work as distraction, allowing her to tackle Clar down and climb over him, but her holdout had been knocked out of reach again when he flailed. 

Next thing she knew the heel of his palm struck across her vision. She was already off balance from reaching for her blaster, and hit the ground on her side. She summoned impulse to snap her leg at him. He blocked that kick, but not the elbow to his face.

Mara scrambled to her feet as he teetered. Not for long. She went for a kick at his side as he stood, only to have him trap her leg, burned calf protesting before he slammed her to the deck. 

Her right shoulder took the brunt of it. Mara kicked him off and tumbled away ungracefully. Her shoulder throbbed as she stood, eyes on Clar even as she took stock. All in all it wasn’t that bad. The worst was her left arm with the burn, followed by her shoulder now. Parsto's punches had broken skin but hadn't done much else. Her calf barely registered and if it weren’t from the fact that her cheek was wet enough to merit a wipe down with her sleeve, she wouldn’t even remember the blow she took when Clar had snuck up on her. The rest was inconsequential.

She wasn’t dumb enough to think all of it wouldn’t take a toll on her speed or lasting power. 

Clar turned his head and took two steps back. Every one of her muscles tightened when, he dropped to one knee and his hand closed on her blade. He came back up and she wished he'd smile and telegraph his overconfidence. He didn't.

Mara ground her teeth. She knew this moment. It was the moment where she realized whatever happened was going to _hurt_.

\--

Luke rushed in after the opening in the door was large enough. Some sort of explosion had happened since the whole second section was full of smoke. Emergency lights flashing red and yellow overhead lit the cavernous room in shadowy patches. Crates were strewn apart, debris of metal and plasteel parts scattered through the deck.

He made his way in cautiously towards where he felt Mara and Enif immediately ahead, a few yards beside the portside escape pod a few yards before the conveyor area. As much as he hurried, there was too much debris and too little visibility to hurry as much as he'd like.

“Stonn?” The half groan made him stop.

Luke closed his eyes. Dunn.

His focus expanded a bit and he felt rather than saw the younger man on the ground, a crate on his leg, pinning him in place. Luke sent his senses ahead. There was a lull in the firefight at least. 

And...he couldn’t leave Dunn without seeing the extent of his injuries. Once his awareness had spread out, he could feel the young man's terror and anguish. As Luke neared he tamped on a wince. By the intermittent red and yellow lights, Dunn’s whole face was bloodied and barely recognizable, a good sized chunk of his ear missing, his neck gushing blood. A lot of it in was in a puddle a few feet behind him.

“Used concs,” he murmured. “Stri’s...dead.” His voice broke. “She...It’s all karked up.”

Luke knelt beside him. He scanned his injuries, urging Dunn to turn his head. The slashes to the right side of his neck weren't pretty, but they were shallow as far as he could see -- the fact Dunn could talk was proof. Mara had missed the artery by a lot. Luke turned his attention to Dunn's leg. He wasn’t sure of the extent of the damage, the crate obscured most of it, but if it were a below-the-knee crush, a simple tourniquet might be the difference between life and death until help arrived.

“It’s...it’s...Meyna, isn’t it?” Dunn whispered as Luke set to work, using one of his utility knives to quickly tear off a piece of the younger man’s sleeve. Dunn's head bowed. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“It’s not Meyna,” Luke wrapped the fabric around the exposed part of Dunn's leg.

Dunn wasn’t listening. “It’s because -- because of what we do.” His voice shook. “It’s--It's what’s comin’ to us--”

Luke stopped, the memory of what was left of the captain turning his stomach. A sentient being reduced to nothing. “No one deserves this. You’ll be able to tell Meyna's people yourself. Answer for all of it.”

“Won't be enough. Not for everything.” Dunn began crying quietly. “I don’t want to die. I should have gone. Like you told me to. I should have. I should have.”

He should have never been here in the first place. “You’re not going to die, Dunn.” Luke dropped a hand on his shoulder. “Dunn, listen to me, you’re not going to die.”

Dunn looked up at him for the first time. The lights flickered through briefly illuminating the younger man's bloodstained face. His eyes widened.

“You just got a second chance,” Luke told him. “Use it and make something out of it. Sorry doesn't mean anything otherwise. This’ll be over soon.”

“You’re -- “

“I have to go.” The Force was blistering with rage in the distance. His eyes passed over Dunn who still stared at him in shock as he stood. "Remember what I said." 

Luke set off deeper into the holds.

\--

Clar held the knife in the traditional style, a hammer grip, but his hand was too far from his body. If this was a habit if his, she could lock the arm. It'd be easier to do once she got him off his feet -- she'd already done it once and it hadn't been that difficult, but his eyes were passing over her in a coldly detached way she didn't like.

“It was you and Stonn all along.” That was disgust in his voice. 

An odd outrage bubbled up, but Mara had already decided how to play this. She grinned, it surprised her when it stung a little. She must have split her lip somewhere. “Your skinner?” She flashed him a skeptical look. "Really?"

Clar's expression didn't change. “Took you to his cabin. He’s still breathing.”

“Crossed my mind once or twice to put a stop to it.” Mara shrugged, the movement sending piercing pain through her. She kept the smile through it. 

His chin lifted. “Why didn't you?”

Mara smiled wider. “Thought it'd be funnier if I killed all of you around him first." She patted her mussed crown braid in a pretense of vanity. "Think he'll recognize me now?”

His face darkened. Finally. “Psychotic cunt. He won't when I'm done with you.”

Mara laughed snidely. “You're one to talk, slaver roachrat." She beckoned with her hand. "Come on then! Impress me.”

He lunged with the knife at her middle. She blocked with her forearm, bringing her fingers in her opposite hand together for a palm strike to his throat. She’d expected the block and followed up with a kick to his side that connected. The jab that came after did as well. 

But it was a flare from the Force that had her jumping back at the last minute. The point of the blade slashed up a swatch of the chest of her flightsuit, scratching her skin. She pushed his bladed hand up, stepping forward with a roundhouse kick to his side. 

Clar moved too quickly, trapping her leg under his arm and the knife stabbed in her thigh. She let out a strangled cry as he pulled it out, the motion bringing him close enough that she snaked a hand to the back of his neck to yank him back, bending her good leg between his. They both went down, she on her side. 

Mara jumped forward and on him, trying to lock his arm while avoiding the slash of the blade it still held. His movements were chaotic, her technique was not perfect, but for all his marksmanship, Clar wasn’t that much of a grappler. Given his weight and height advantage, he probably thought he didn't need to be.

She took a shallow slash to her side as she worked, bent and headbutted him, feeling his nose break under it. The effect dazed him enough that she finally locked up his arm. She didn’t have enough force for a break, not in this position, but he let out a yelp and the blade fell with a satisfying clatter. She reached for it just as a blow thwacked on the side of her head and she stumbled, only managing to slap the blade a few feet away.

Lights swam in her vision as she rolled, trying to get to her feet, staggering, her leg almost folding underneath her. Where the hell was her blaster? She lifted her eyes.

Clar looked a mess, and for a second her brain flipped back to Crofin. Damage was the great equalizer. Damage _and_ a weapon. She shoved the thought aside, groping for focus. How long she could rely on her leg was a question mark.

His hand was by his elbow, popping the arm in back in. 

Mara scanned but didn’t see her blade or holdout. His dislocated arm gave her a fighting chance. No way he could use it without pain. At best distracting, at worst, his grip had weakened -- and he no longer had the blade.

This needed to be over quickly and she crossed over to him, not risking giving him time to find the blade or the blaster. He feinted with his good arm, probably thinking he didn’t need the extra power. He cross jabbed, extending the arm and there -- 

She jumped on her good leg, yanking him forward again, her legs clamping around his neck, bringing him down and she would finish with the usual choke, but as he fell he found the knife wound in her leg and _dug_.

Unexpected -- either that or her own diminishing resources, but she let out a cry as the ground rushed up. She didn’t land well enough to keep her grip and while she kicked with the heel of her boot to his chest, he was scrambling up and over. She attempted to roll way, but his weight on her lower back pinned her before she got too far. She shifted forward, and thought better of it. She threw her head back hoping to connect again. Mistake.

His forearm landed heavily across her neck, too fast for her to tuck her chin. 

Rage burned bright as her vision grew fuzzy. How could this bottom feeder, the trash of the galaxy have _her_ in a choke hold that she had no leverage to break?

It may as well be just a few months ago, that Noghri’s arm across her neck and Thrawn...

Laughing at her. 

Something...opened within her. The instant lengthened, her awareness sharpened past the dimming of her senses. She felt it -- all the presences -- Clar behind her, Selmur and the nova that was Skywalker off at the front of this section, the connections within the ship, and even without. The universe itself opened before her. She found herself centered very simply on Clar’s throat.

And squeezed.

Hadn’t it been like that with the cuffs? A press of power. That here with his hands around her throat Clar could simply... die. Easily. His grip had already loosened. 

She could do anything. No one would touch her. Ever. 

She had the power to raze anyone down before they could even _think_ it. She would.

Mara blinked, coming back to herself, recoiling.

This was not for her. Never for her. It was a lie to stand here and reach through the Force. Let that be the domain of all those Force savants. To hell with all of them.

She was a creature of dirty tricks and dirtier hands. It was by her _own_ hands she lived or died, not some fickle energy field. All its promises to her were lies too.

The truth was: Clar would do anything to see her dead. 

She’d get there first. 

She'd _always_ get there first.

As Clar’s grip tightened anew, she reached back to both sides of his skull. She’d always specialized in weak spots, tender areas, she thought over his screams as she dug her thumbs into his eyes.

His grip vanished and she lurched herself into a standing position. Finally locating her holdout by a crate. Mara limped over to it, aimed at Clar where he wailed incoherently, his hands over his face, and shot him twice in the head.

With a breath, she let herself lean back against the nearest crate and slide down, pulling her knees up. Clar’s body lay only a few feet away.

She wanted to close her eyes, didn’t _because_ she wanted to. Her face twisted. She could still feel the squelch--

Mara turned her thoughts away, wiping her hands on her flightsuit, but the disgusting feeling remained, the echo of his screaming in her ears. Another phantom scar.

She did close her eyes, but what did it matter? There was just blood dripping down the bulkhead there too. Once, she could drown the feeling in higher virtue. The universe needed order. That was just the cost.

But what did anything truly matter in the end? For each of the pirates she eliminated, more would take their place. Somewhere down the line, she, too, would be snuffed out. If she were lucky by a blaster bolt to the head. If she were unlucky it might be her blood on some bulkhead like Crofin, like the captain. Like any vermin.

Or worse yet, time would stretch before her, leaving her decrepit and demon-ridden.

No matter what she chose, everything ended the same. Nothing changed. Nothing mattered. That it were _real_ didn’t make any of it feel anything other than foul. 

Mara forced her eyes open. She rechecked her holdout’s power pack and climbed unsteadily to her feet.

Just one more. One more pirate to kill. 

Mara looked around. Skywalker was on the move possibly at the far front port side of this section. Too close. She didn't know how long it'd take him to get to her and she needed to get to Selmur. Her eye landed on the aerial conveyor's load line above. It was still moving.

She just had to get to the starboard bulkhead and climb the access stairs up. Not easy with her leg, but more doable than limping all the way to the front of the section. Once she made it up, the system would just zip her to the front of the section, she'd dismount at the access stairs there, cross to the primary storage area and head to the loadlifter on the way to Selmur. She rolled her shoulder. It could hang on. Next she placed a hand on the burn. Just a little bit longer.

Mara spared some regret that she'd run out of time to search for her satchel. No need it from here on in anyway. She reached the stairs and began her painful climb up. Skywalker wouldn’t be able to stop her. The thought was devoid of triumph; it only held a heavy inevitability.

She didn’t know what was next after she was done, but she’d stopped counting on afters a long time ago.

Mara didn’t know why she’d bothered to start again.


	22. Scrim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What is the screen on which light and dark cast their shapes and shadows? Where is the ground on which stands good and evil?”  
> -Matthew Stover, _Traitor_

_And you said..._   
_Come on, come on_   
_Just close your eyes_   
_We'll test our fate_   
_Like rolling dice_ [[x](https://youtu.be/SrC-BQIbWuo)]  


  


  


A sharp snap resounded through the Force. 

Luke’s stomach heaved at the sudden uncorking, the temperature around him plunging into a cold that he could feel in his insides. Power from vindictiveness. Malice disguised as retaliation.

Just as soon as it came it was gone, and there was just a sudden silence, no less terrible. The dark side thrummed underneath lying in wait, close, too close.

A scream cut through the air followed by shots. Luke flinched more at the tear through the Force than the screech of bolts. Enif was gone.

Luke didn’t think. He knew exactly where she was going and turned on his heel, bolting towards the ship’s locker, tapping on the Force to guide his strides through the wreckage of crates and their contents, the thump of his boots gradually drowned out by the bump of the loadlifter a few yards from the sectioning doors.

Mara was moving towards the primary storage from the starboard side.

As Luke passed through the doors he’d carved an opening into, he spied a figure limping quickly towards him by the outer edge of the maze of crates. Bareth. Luke couldn’t imagine how he had managed to break out of the locker. 

Was he suicidal or just stupid?

“Oh, thank kark." Bareth looked nervously around him. “We don’t have much time. The detonator--”

"Quiet." Luke raised his head, reaching out with his senses. She’d somehow speeded up. How was Mara moving towards them that fast? 

He focused again on Bareth. “Should have stayed where you were, Bareth.”

“Listen," the pirate sounded slightly less panicked now. "You’re here for us, right? I could tell you whatever you want to know. Just come with me--”

“You’re lying.” 

Bareth made a frustrated noise. “Why would I lie to you? She wanted the detonator right?”

There was something there. Something in the first mate’s sense. 

“The captain had it.”

“He did.” Bareth lifted his chin. “But it’s a double signal. I have the second. So you need to come with me.” 

Double signal? 

Luke stared at him. That felt like the truth. The captain’s savaged body drifted up in his memory. He let it even though it turned his stomach. He’d intuited Mara hadn’t done all that damage out of misplaced rage. Or for information...

_She was looking for something._

The detonator.

They'd implanted the detonator. Like a slave chip.

Luke's eyes widened and his head jerked in Bareth’s direction. He’d seen them back home, but never on anyone who’d _chosen_ it. Truly, desperation knew no bounds.

“The captain too?”

Bareth nodded slowly. “Make me jumpy, and we can all just -- boom.”

The first mate was too self-serving, that was apparent from earlier, but Luke rubbed at his forehead, fingers skidding lightly on the patch-covered gash there, squeezing his eyes shut over the dread that shot through him. It should have been obvious to him from the start. All of it should have been obvious from the start. Bareth had been Mara's trap -- a distraction. Dunn could have been as well, for all he knew. His stomach clenched at the memory of Dunn bloodied and hunched over, shoulders shaking as he cried. The utter callousness of it was incomprehensible.

Bareth spread his arms. “Come on!" Luke stayed where he was and confusion crossed Bareth's features. "Why?” He gestured to himself and Luke saw his flightsuit sleeves were in tatters, almost as if...burned by acid, his hands and arms on second look had scattered patches of red, indicators of a chemical burn. Was that how he'd gotten out? “You’re after _me_ !” 

“That’s the thing with Jedi,” Mara’s voice rang out behind them. “They think they can save everyone.”

Luke whirled as Mara came into view. Her flightsuit was soot stained and torn in several places. She walked favoring her other leg so it wasn't difficult to read it as a wound, but the fact that she could walk with it probably meant it wasn't a blaster shot. One a part of her flightsuit’s upper arm was burned off. She stopped several meters away.

“Turns out all they do is delay the inevitable.”

Her face was equally blackened with soot, but even from a distance plenty of garish swelling was visible along both sides. Her sleeves were pulled up to her elbows, holdout in her hands. She held the blaster almost casually. 

Was it the closeness of the dark side that made her seem like someone else entirely?

There was a brief flicker in her emotions even as her face betrayed nothing and the image vanished, leaving only Mara, exhaustion etched into her. He probed a little, her shielding was just barely --

“Don’t do that,” she snapped. “Either force your way in or get the kriff out, Skywalker.”

He looked at her in disbelief, aware of Bareth’s eyes on him. How could she -- “It is _not_ \--” 

“It’s what Force users do,” she explained to Bareth, her voice back to level. “The strong ones anyway.”

“I have _never_ \--” He started before he caught on that she was baiting him. Luke set his jaw. "That is not true."

Mara ignored him continuing to direct herself at Bareth. “Scared now? You should be.”

“That’s not true,” he told the pirate behind him with some dismay. "None of it is true." Was there no end to her performances?

Mara lifted her index finger. “One kriffing job, Selmur.” 

“You didn't mention Luke kriffin’ Skywalker was on the ship!” Bareth called out.

Luke tried to meet her eyes. “Stop it, Mara. The killing. The lying. Let’s go.” He took a step towards her.

She raised her blaster at Bareth and Luke stepped to the side, placing himself between her and the pirate. 

“You go. I did you the favor of contacting your ride. You won’t have to wait long.” She leaned to the side, looking over Luke's shoulder. “Selmur, get over here.”

Luke stepped more solidly in front of him, a hand near his lightsaber. “You’re not killing him.”

Her eyebrows raised at him, but she addressed Bareth. “You want to leave with the poster boy for justice and righteousness?”

Bareth let out a laugh. “If it’s between that and dying...”

Luke liked nothing about the shakiness in Bareth’s sense. How could this even be a choice for him? He caught the pirate’s eye. “No, Bareth.”

“Obviously, that’s reasonable.” Mara was nodding. “Ever seen the inside of a dungeon ship, Selmur?” She smiled in a distinctly unpleasant way. “Maybe the Jedi will show you. ”

Luke shook his head vigorously, eyes on Bareth. “The New Republic--”

“Shhh, Skywalker. I’m talking to Selmur here.”

“You’re setting up a lie!” The second he moved out of the way, Luke knew. There was no way he could pull her blaster away easily. He could _feel_ her vigilance. He didn't want to hurt her either, especially not in her current state.

“Want to make me an offer, Selmur? Your borer--”

“It's all--” 

“My borer what?” Bareth interrupted, peeking out from behind Luke.

“She’s lying to you!” Luke hissed. She was meaning for Bareth to step clear _himself_. Put himself on a plate before her, and Luke reached through the Force.

It didn’t even take that much. The Force shove at Mara's wounded leg, made it fold under her, but she took the fall on her side rolling to her stomach, blaster still in hand and aimed. Luke activated his blade and planted his feet--

Alarm blared through the Force and he spun to cleave through the metal pipe Bareth had swung at his head, missing him by inches. 

“Do you _want_ to die?” Luke shouted at him.

Bareth’s face contorted. “Not rotting in some prison ship! And I don’t trust freaks--

Luke jumped a couple of steps back, missing the off balance backswing of what remained of it as the pirate fell on his wounded leg.

“No!” Mara screamed suddenly, “Skywalker! Get back--”

There was the hard clank of something in the loadlifter's direction. A bang rang out, throwing him clean off his feet. He was airborne until he hit something. Hard.

Luke's ears were ringing. Everything around him felt hazy. Very slowly, the world slid back into place. The deck was now under his face.

Smoke curled up from a bulky object, its debris scattered all around. A couple of seconds later the word drifted up. Loadlifter.

A blurry shape moved...towards him? No, past him...to a form a few feet left from him. Luke blinked quickly. He concentrated, drew on the Force. His vision cleared. 

Bareth was on the deck. Mara standing over him, her boot stomping into his middle as he curled away. Her lips were forming words, face a mask of anger. 

Luke still couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears. He meant to say _stop_ , but found himself coughing out instead, tasting copper as he did. He tried to get up, but his limbs felt sluggish. He drew on the Force more, lifted his head, watching Bareth try to crawl away.

Her holdout in hand, Mara dropped to one knee and her arm flew down to the side of Bareth's head, sending the pirate sprawling on his back.

Luke pulled on the Force more, his senses finally sharpening enough that he heard Bareth’s shouted, “I did what you asked--”

“I never!” Mara yanked hard at the neck of his flightsuit and shook him. “Said to attack him!" Her arm lashed out again, holdout slamming into his forehead, and Bareth's arms rose up again to cover his bloodied face. "Kriffin’ maggot!” 

“Kriff!" His voice tore through the air. Luke tried to raise himself on his forearms. He was only partially successful. "I thought--I thought--” 

She interrupted the pirate with another blow.

Luke finally gathered himself enough to cry out, "Stop!"

Mara raised her head in his direction. “Skywalker?”

Luke brought more focus to bear, drawing more from the Force. He smelled charred electronics in the air, tried to get up, but his limbs still weren’t cooperating. There was a slow, building throb in his head.

“You weren’t-- you weren’t supposed to be that close to the blast.”

She did it. She’d set up _an explosion_. Luke focused on breathing. He closed his eyes, sinking into the Force. 

“Skywalker? You alright?”

“Been better,” he finally grunted out as the ringing faded. The low grade pounding receded. His senses realigned fully and he opened his eyes. Mara now had the first mate on his stomach, her holdout pressed against the back of his head. That didn't seem that much of an improvement, but at least she'd stopped slapping Bareth around with her blaster.

“Good.” There was palpable relief in her voice, even though her expression remained as aloof as ever. “Now get up. You’re leaving.”

\--

All the day’s aches and pains were rising in crescendo.

Karrde’s people should be here any second, Mara told herself. Selmur was right under her blaster. She was almost done.

Some doubt had broken through her haze of inevitability once she’d seen Skywalker with Selmur, Skywalker’s Force disguise having fallen along the way. She’d managed to delay Skywalker enough for the loadlifter’s lubricant shortage to cause the system to overheat into a blast, the same trick last week to clean off one of the other pirates. The other engineer maybe, she didn't remember his name. 

The explosion should have been enough to simply throw Skywalker down, and give her a head start, but thanks to that idiot Selmur, Skywalker was still on the deck, trying to get up. He’d been too close to the blast radius. Now she couldn’t leave until she made sure he could get himself to an escape pod.

“No.” He'd gotten himself to his hands and knees.

Mara let out an exasperated sigh. Trust Skywalker to keep making things difficult. She wondered how hard he'd hit his head.

“If you want one for your collection of mercy,” she called out in his direction. “You can have him--”

“That would work,” he called back hoarsely. Mara didn’t like how weak his voice sounded. He was fine and she shouldn't take her eyes of Selmur. Skywalker could turn the tables in the blink of an eye. She of all people should know not to underestimate him. “If I actually believed you.”

“I got credits,” Selmur whimpered as she yanked him to a kneeling position.

“Interrupt me again,” she said low. “And I’ll dent your sithspawned head in some more. Try me.”

He quieted.

“I mean it,” she addressed Skywalker. “Get in the pod and I’ll throw this insect right in there with you. My gift to galactic peace and stability.”

“Lying. No deal,” his voice sounded stronger. From her peripheral vision, he appeared a little scraped up but steady on his feet. Same old Skywalker. She’d been an idiot to worry. “Let’s go, Mara.”

She scoffed. The blasted gall of him. It'd been worth a try.

“Don’t kill me,” Selmur whispered. "I did what you as--"

“Did you not hear me?” Mara hissed back. She should shoot him already. The firegems had a detonator timer that she'd found in the captain and put in the leg of her flightsuit. The device held the detonator chip. Minimum for those at that range was fifteen minutes. She could get to one of the bulkhead pods before they blew. Selmur wasn’t worth the aggravation of dragging him back to Vir. Shooting him would be the best way to force Skywalker away.

Skywalker’s voice was firm. “We leave him for NR sec and we go.”

She laughed putting in as much derision into it as she could. It _was_ funny. To come all this way and roll over just because Skywalker told her to... “I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say something stupid. You know where the pods are, Skywalker. See you around.”

“You heard right,” he continued, undaunted, and actually dared to take one step towards her. “We make sure he doesn’t blow up the ship and we go.”

“Stop right there.” All the humor left her voice. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Mara,” his voice softened, “You’re not -- you’re not okay. This can't be what Karrde put you up to--”

She felt that warm tightness of rage in her middle. 

“No one," she said very slowly, "puts me up to anything anymore.”

“You can’t kill me," Selmur interrupted. "The gems. You’ll -- ” He broke with a shout when she slapped the side of her holdout at the back of his head, his teeth clacking together hard enough she could hear it. 

“ _Why_ ?” Skywalker raised his voice, a note of horror leaking in. “Why are you doing this?”

Mara focused on Selmur’s bloodied head. “I’m done explaining myself.”

“This is not who you are.”

“The kriff you know.” 

“I knew enough to bet my life on it.”

Her head snapped up towards him. 

“ _You_ !” she roared. “Bet your life on an insane Jedi!” Selmur shifted and she smashed her holdout against his ear. He crumpled down with a cry.

Two quick steps towards her. “Mara, stop!”

But Mara had her holdout muzzle at his temple as she fixed her gaze on Skywalker. “I had to cut him down _anyway_. Him and that puppet with your face. You know what?” She smiled tightly, over the boil in her blood. Things were always so _clean_ from where he stood. “Maybe -- maybe you should _pay_ me. Two for the price of one. But whatever. It’s all the fucking same to me.” 

Skywalker's chest heaved with his indrawn breath as if it were a blow, as if he'd seen something horrible. Finally. He really should be on his way.

Why didn’t it feel like a victory?

Selmur wheezed on the ground. 

“Leave,” Mara said.

Skywalker didn't move. Rather, he seemed to recenter himself, all that horror tucked in tight. “Killing him won’t make anything better. It hasn’t. All that killing....it’s just made things worse.”

“Because of you.” It left her through gritted her teeth. Do something, she thought at Selmur, who had gone carefully still, as if afraid to breathe. “I would be done --”

“ _Is it_ because of me? Is that what you truly believe?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Squeeze the trigger. “Yes.”

“Then point that blaster at me.”

She glanced at him then turned back to Selmur. “Nice try.”

“You don’t even _want_ to do this.” His voice turned beseeching. “I can feel it. You don’t have to, Mara. You have a choice. You _know_ you do. You know what’s right.”

She licked her lips. It didn’t matter. Everything was a lie.

“You can choose differently. For him. For yourself.”

Everything.

“Please,” Selmur whispered. “Please.”

_More will hate you than love you, but I--_

“It’s what you choose, Mara.”

She pulled the trigger.

Mara heard Skywalker’s shout, felt the shock in it and the ensuing swell in the Force just before her feet were off the ground. It came too late. All of it. By the time her back hit the deck, the silence and Selmur's prone body several feet away confirmed it. 

She tried to roll, but her whole body felt like it was in a knot. It was among the most bizarre experiences in her life that _Skywalker_ was by her elbow. How he'd gotten to her that fast, she didn't know, but he was pulling her up, and hauling her up bodily over his shoulder, her head swimming through it all. The care of his grasp jarred against the sharp outrage that simmered behind a spike of anxiety.

Skywalker must really be upset for her to feel it like this, she reflected with some distance.

Fifteen minutes, Mara groped for clarity. The pods were just after the first doors. Port side was closest.

She just...she just needed to catch her breath.

Mara waited until he was stepping over the carved up opening on the first sectioning doors, the lighting of the first section changing to the intermittent red and yellows of the emergency system. They lit up the scattered debris and collapsed crates that littered the area where she'd detonated the first concussion grenade. The smoke was gone, but the smell lingered in the air. 

She threw her full weight to the side. 

“Mara!” Skywalker cried out. “Stay st--”

Intention was everything. She wasn’t intending an attack.

She was intending to get free.

Skywalker didn’t fall, but his focus on keeping his footing meant less on his hands. She flailed ungracefully, mind blanker than blank.

It was surprisingly easy.

He’d meant to adjust his grip, but the graceless swing of her arm dislodged it, she arched her back and she was falling. Mara greeted the deck with something close to gratitude, even as every part of her screamed in pain as she rolled back and away among the scrap around the deck, lifted to a crouch. Her leg gave and she shoved herself back with her good leg, landing on her lower back.

Familiar metal glinted just under a piece of plasteel in the cycling lights. She pushed herself in its direction with her arms, ignoring the renewed protest in her arm and shoulder -- all she'd blocked out until now. She even brought her wounded leg into play. Don’t give up on me.

She felt Skywalker approach, but didn’t waste time looking up at him, she pitched to the side, hand closing over the blaster. Heavier than her holdout. Clar’s, perhaps. Or Cridmeen’s. 

A thrum of power and she felt herself dragged back, bottles, crate parts and canisters flying around her, until she hit a flat surface, the wind knocked out of her. Crate? Part of it? She winced at the throb in her legs and her back, momentarily disoriented. Pounding in her head had started in tandem with the blasted intermittent lights. 

But her hand still gripped the blaster. She breathed. Okay. Okay.

The Force felt heavy around her a second before there was a hard yank on her hand. She reflexively pulled the trigger. The warning shot burst in a flash of white in the red and yellow, and she used her good leg to pull herself up to a standing position. It was harder than she thought. More painful. There was no point in taking stock, no point in running, so she just leaned against the crate, breathing hard, focused on her grip on the blaster.

“It’s been everything you orchestrated from the beginning!” Skywalker’s outline strode forward decisively, debris crunching under his boots. He gestured brusquely, shadow extending towards her, “And _this_ is all you have to show for it!”

Mara concentrated on staying standing, part of her there but not, and thought with clinical curiosity, oh, he’s furious. 

A wash of red illuminated Skywalker's drawn expression, the escape pod hatchway behind him. 

“Do whatever you want, Mara," he ground out. "But you’re _not_ making me watch you destroy yourself!”

And she thought, _fuck you_.

She lifted the blaster.

There was a snap, a surge of unrestrained power that snapped power lights, shattering glass, sparks blasting out before the room was plunged into darkness.

Gooseflesh came over Mara’s skin as it ebbed like receding tide, coiling towards Skywalker. His blade came on with a crackle, a beam of blue cutting through the dark illuminating the immediate surroundings. 

But her blaster was already pointed at her head. 

She’d always get there first.

\--

Luke gasped and took a step back.

“You just don’t listen,” she murmured. “I’ve been trying to tell you to stay away. Should have done a better job of it, I guess.”

He lifted his left hand towards her slowly, shifting his hand with the blade back, still reeling. “Put the blaster down, Mara. Please.”

She gestured behind him, to the closed hatchway lit by the lightsaber's glow. “Get inside that pod. Now.”

Her shields were crumbling, but Mara didn’t seem to notice the crash and roil of feelings around her. Anger to be sure, but that was just the edge of it. Something far more noxious stirred and spread. 

“I’m just going to hit the lights on the hatchway so I can shut down the lightsaber, okay?” he announced calmly.

Without taking his eyes off her, he took two steps back and flicked the switch. Mara stayed as she was. The hatchway opened, its lights coming on. He shut down the blade and clipped it to his belt.

“I’ll leave you alone," he continued. "You say Karrde’s people are near, let’s just have them pick us up, then I’ll be right out of your life. I won’t bother you again.”

He hated that the blaster was _right there_ as the whirlpool of dank feeling swirled around. It didn't speak, not in so many words, but he felt it like a hissed, _no use, no way out..._

“Just put the blaster down, please. Let’s leave this ship. It’s not worth...this.”

Mara had no reaction.

“It’s...it’s my fault. I’ve made things...difficult. For you. So let’s just get into the pod. I won’t even say a word. I swear.”

“You really think I’m an idiot,” she said softly. 

Luke wracked his brain for more options ignoring his mounting dread. How much time did he even have? “You said it’s because of me...so point it at me.”

“As if I don’t know you’ll get it off my hands in an instant.” Something broke through the blankness of her face, a lightning flash of anger that spent itself near instantly. “I can’t touch you.”

“Could have-- could have fooled me,” he forced a light tone. “The loadlifter wasn’t fun.” He pointed to his forehead. “Then the vashing...you could have had me killed then too.”

She didn’t reply.

“You _told_ them not to hurt me.”

Something else flitted across her face, regret. “You should have never been there. Or here. This is not your place.”

He made himself nod. If she couldn’t be persuaded, then he had to keep her talking until he couldn’t. “But it’s yours.”

Something flickered in her emotions. He could read it, he realized. Regret, overlaid with resignation, and flashes of anger in between. “...I’m nothing like you.”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Her expression grew distant, the regret changing hue and he thought he could pick out an distant echo of longing. “Should have told you before. Warned you. When you talked about training...” She blinked the look away. “Get in the pod, Skywalker."

“Tell me. Please,” he added quickly. “Before I go.”

Her voice was soft, belying the ache that surfaced under that cloying pool of despair. “That I tried to use the Force. With Thrawn. When he caught me. I...never actually saw Vader grab anyone by the throat. Heard about it. I tried anyway. Didn’t work. That Noghri almost made me pass out. Thrawn laughed at me and my...tricks.”

He stayed silent, knowing there was more. Bracing himself for it.

“Tried it again. With Clar. It worked.”

Luke thought back to the dark side, even now he could feel it, interwoven into that weariness he'd seen when she'd first appeared. And yet, the dark side was close, but...bounded...all it would take would be a spark. Then as now, but Mara was keeping herself very carefully off that ledge. 

“You didn’t give into it.”

“No. I gouged his eyes out instead.” Mara's expression didn't change. "I already got all the tricks I need."

He had to look away. That seemed no less horrifying than giving in.

“ _He_ gave me a lightsaber too," she mused. "Did you know that? Before. From a crystal had been," she paused and her words had the ring of a quote, an eerie mimicry, _"seen only once in the last hundred years_. Probably belonged to someone else too." She gestured to the lightsaber at his belt. "Maybe even someone killed with that one. Almost cried when I lost it when I was on the run after Endor. Isn't that funny?" Her voice broke at the last. "So funny."

“I didn’t know,” Luke blurted out. He'd known...in broad strokes, of course he'd known, but this...He’d thought training would have been _safe_. It'd seemed safer than _anything_ else at one point. “I made a mistake.”

“Several. Mostly involving trusting you who shouldn’t have.”

Luke lifted his eyes to her face. He could salvage this still. He had to. “I trust you.”

Her face twisted into a grimace. “Get in the pod. I’m not playing your game anymore.” She reached to her pocket, pulled out a small object. "Ten minutes." 

The detonator. He refused to get off target. “I wasn’t playing any games. I -- ” There had to be something he could say to pull her back; he almost had it...

She squared her shoulders. “You’re not making me do anything.”

“Have I?” He tilted his head.

“You would have. If you had your way these roachrats would be on their way to the NR.”

“To get off with a slap on the wrist,” he said evenly. “So it’s better that you killed them.”

“It doesn’t really matter much. But you would have stopped me,” her voice dipped theatrically, “because their lives are oh-so-precious. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Not because of them. Because of you.” He spread a hand. “Because of this.”

Something passed through her face, again that glimmer of regret. There.

“Killing is dirty,” he took a full step towards her, “deserved or not. Self defense or not.” Another step. “Whether you’re good at it or not.” Another step.” It’s heavy...diminishes a person under its weight. Am I wrong?” He waited a beat and swallowed. “I can’t leave without you. We'll both die here. We can...if that's what you want.”

“No." Mara closed her eyes. "Not you. You have to go.” Her voice lowered to a shaky whisper. “I... _can’t_. I can't go. There’s nothing. Nothing to go back to. All those times starting over. There was nothing to start over _from_.”

“But you did start over, didn’t you?” He dared a step towards her. “Every time.” Another. Almost close enough. “You choose to.”

“I shouldn’t have. It was all a lie.” Her shoulders slumped, but the blaster stayed steady where it was.

“You don't have to go back to Coruscant, Mara,” he murmured, taking another step. “You could go anywhere. Wherever hurts less. Wherever you choose.”

“Stop.”

He shook his head and took the last step, close enough that he'd need only to lift his hand to touch her cheek. “I trust you.”

Her face crumpled. “How? You can’t. There’s no reason. I took them all away.”

And with his heart in his throat, he put his hand over hers holding the blaster. 

“I choose to." Luke went on in a choked voice, feeling as if he were betting everything in this one moment. “Mara, there’s no starting over if you do this...”

It never got any easier. 

“Only hurt.” But he trusted that tremble in her Force presence, that pulse of emotion under the despair, like a faint but persistent heartbeat. He didn’t risk taking his awareness from it for a second.

“For me?” she whispered, eyes dulled. “I don’t care. I’m so sick of everything.”

Luke gave a slight shake of his head, centering himself on that one tendril, a shoot between cracks of stone, as unlikely as it was fragile.

He trusted in that.

“For me.” Luke slid his hand down the muzzle and smoothly pulled the blaster up, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. The way she sagged against him felt like a way out. He was getting her out. He was getting them both out and --

“No! Stonn!”

The shot rang out like a thunderclap.

He would have thought it was the holdout in Mara’s hand under his, but she’d been thrown forward, stiffening for a heartbeat and then collapsing heavily against him with a cracked sound of surprise. 

Her blaster was out of her loosened hand and in Luke’s in an instant, his arm guided by the Force. 

A series of quick shots and he was pulling her down and to the side with him. Several hit the shooter, killing shots -- he felt the fizzling of life on impact, but it was panic at the smell of charred clothing and flesh that coursed through him, tinged with old horror.

“No,” he gasped out. “No-no-no.”

Mara’s.

Luke was stitching up a pain management technique for her when he looked down and glimpsed the wound at her side, as big as his splayed palm. His stomach turned right over, for a fraction of a second he lost his bearings. 

“Ti--me,” Mara half whimpered under shallow breaths. Her hand opened, the detonator falling a few inches away.

He reached for it with one hand, keeping her in a half sitting position with his other. Seven minutes.

Luke closed his eyes, sinking into the Force, examining the wound, how deep it went...if he could...

He opened his eyes, tamping down on the panic pushed against his calm. He couldn’t. The burn went too deep, he didn’t know enough, his control too unsteady right now for something like that. He pulled on a calming technique and sought the timer again. Four minutes. 

They had to go. He adjusted his hold on Mara.

“Not...with you,” her voice faltering even more, “When I...”

She was going into shock. The pain management technique must have been sloppy or it was too much. He couldn't take her like this. There had to be something else he could try.

“I ...look at you--”

“I’m putting you in a trance,” he announced. That had to buy them some time until he could get Mara help. He hadn’t done it before, but it had to work. It would work.

Luke closed his eyes. Another calming technique for a few breaths, and then he pulled on the Force, trying to draw Mara in...and received the equivalent of a clumsy shove out. At any other moment, it wouldn’t have made a difference. It hadn't even been that hard.

His eyes flew open.

“No.” Her voice was barely audible, her lips devoid of color even under all the wounds, the blood and grime, eyes unfocused, half-delirious from the pain even with the technique dispelling a chunk of it. Her arms moved spasmodically as if she’d meant to push him off, but couldn’t summon the strength. He steadied himself in the Force. 

“When I look at you, I want...”

Luke sought her presence in it.

“...I want to die.”

With a hard pull he drew her under the technique. She went limp.

He lifted her and was about to dash into the airlock, but forced himself to turn back at the last minute, eye scanning for the identity of the life he’d taken. It’d been too fast.

Dunn lay face down several meters from them between some crates, the fallen blaster in front of him, makeshift tourniquet still around his leg, its conditions unclear from this distance, but apparently well enough that Dunn had somehow pulled himself out.

There was a squeeze in Luke's chest, something in him rending to pieces as he turned away. There'd been no warning from the Force, not for him, and he'd said, he'd told Dunn...but Luke focused on shoving himself and Mara into the airlock, slamming the side of his leg to the controls to open the door to the interior tunnel.

He tried not to jostle Mara too much as he pulled her in, punched the launch button as soon as they were inside its cramped interior. A violent jerk and the pod shot out, glimmering streaks visible through the solitary porthole. 

The space of a deep breath.

Luke closed his eyes, sinking into the Force to ground them into place. 

The last thing he'd seen was flashing light.


	23. Exit Wounds

__  
__  
_We stood beside_  
_A frozen sea_  
_I saw you out_  
_In front of me_ [[x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5fENVQJGc18)]  


  


  


“...Repeat, this is freighter _Swilja’s Spear_ ,” a staticky male voice filled the air. “We received a hail from these coordinates. Anyone there?”

Luke jerked out from his half meditative state, feeling Mara slide down a few inches from where he'd kept her floating in the center of the pod. He adjusted his Force hold on her as he blurted out, “Copy. This is Luke Skywalker. You’re Karrde’s people? We need a medbay. Urgently.”

“Luke Skywalker? What would you be doing here?”

“Classified. Mara Jade needs help.”

A pause. Luke reached out. At a distance, the mind that he touched projected suspicion. “I’d like to hear from Jade first.”

With some wariness he offered, “She’s in a Jedi healing trance.”

“A _what_ \--” The voice schooled itself back to matter-of-factness. “Her ID code then.”

Apprehension creeped into him. Focus on the present. He centered himself. “She didn’t give it to me.”

Suspicion flared to outright hostility.“Okay, that’s enough playing, pirate scum. You have ten seconds to give me a reason not to vape you out the Hydian Way.”

Luke's mind raced for something, anything. “The ID codes you guys gave me! I can give you my X-wing ID codes. The _Wild Karrde_ picked it up a few months back and towed it to Myrkr -- held it there for a while. You have a centralized system right? Find it.” He looped back through one of his memory techniques and recited it at breakneck speed.

There was a couple of minutes of silence and the voice came back sounding sheepish. 

“Confirmed and sorry--”

“Just hurry. She’s been shot.”

“On our way.”

What seemed like ages later, Luke felt the pod stutter, signaling the grasp of a tractor beam. He busied himself standing and accommodating Mara, an arm across her upper back, his other behind her knees, balancing her weight with the Force to avoid putting pressure on the wound, his own footing steady in the Force despite the movement of the pod. An interminable wait after that, the pod jerked as it came to a stop in what he assumed to be the temp lock.

Luke simply stared at the security panel, willing it to go from red to green. Once it did he sprang into action, grabbing Mara as he used the Force to throw the hatch open.

A green-skinned female Twi’lek stepped up to him from a group of five flightsuited beings as Luke darted forward. At the edge of his perceptions, he sensed their surprise and curiosity, but he'd dealt with Karrde's people enough to expect professionalism.

“I’m Captain Tesfo’--

Luke didn’t have time for greetings. “You have a med officer?”

The captain sucked in air sharply, lekku stiffening for a second when she saw the wound, even covered as it was by the basic bandaging from the pod’s bare bones medkit. From Luke's peripheral vision he saw a male Twi'lek crew member of the same coloring approach with a standard medkit. He, too, had a similar reaction.

Luke shut their dread out of his awareness, trying for distance. A wound that squarely in the lower back was almost always instantly lethal. To his untrained eye, the shot had missed the spine, but Luke had no idea how many internal organs it had affected though he probed the wound best he could with the Force.

The captain's lips thinned. “No, we--”

“Bacta tank?” Luke already knew how unlikely that would be.

She shook her head and very gently said, “Is she --”

He felt his jaw lock. “She’s alive.”

The captain blinked, her trepidation clear through the Force and Luke shut it out too. Shut out everything else the emotion called up with it. There was only the present. Only the now. 

The Twi'lek with the medkit drew closer. The ship's equivalent to a med officer, Luke assumed. The crew member's eyes skittered towards the captain, but he turned to Luke. “We have a cryo capsule. Come." 

A cryogenic hibernation capsule. A pod. Used by smugglers to transport delicate living organisms. If that was the best that could be done for now, there was no choice. Luke nodded following him and the captain, registering a Sullustan crew member that had detached himself from the rest at their heels.

"That should at least regulate her temperature until the extent of the damage can be evaluated,” the Twi'lek crew member explained. Luke clung to the distance of basic first aid. A blaster shot was a plasma burn at base, the danger being that unless stopped, it'd simply keep burning. The trance had done that, it was whether Mara's body had enough energy to keep itself stable until medical attention could intervene that was the question. Fixing herself from a wound that severe was impossible through a trance alone. Perhaps if he had more knowledge of healing...

Memories and more threatened. Luke shoved them aside. Only the present.

“We’ve already set course to the Ryloth system," the captain was saying. "There are facilities there. It’s just a couple of hours from here. We’ll have a pilot and shuttle ready to take her down once we’re close.”

“Karrde?”

She answered without missing a beat, “A message was relayed to him through my contact. He’ll be updated as soon as we complete the microjump.”

“Tell him to contact me directly,” Luke said tersely. “He has my personal comm code.” 

They'd come to the capsule. True to the uses smugglers gave it, the capsule was not in the medbay but the freighter’s cargo hold, just a short trek from the airlock -- it would be easier and quicker to load into the shuttle, once they’d gone through the microjump, the captain assured him. 

Through the trance Luke was reading no change in Mara’s condition as he placed her on the oval pod as if it were a cot. Had to be positive sign despite the persistent clawing of worry at his insides. Had to be.

The male Twi'lek approached the pod with his medkit and pulled out med shears along with a med scanner. The Sullustan crew member, a tech from the looks of it, stepped up behind him, a datapad in hand. The Twi'lek began carefully cutting off Mara's flightsuit, reciting each wound as he uncovered and scanned it, adding jargon Luke didn't recognize, for the Sullustan to mark up. His voice was as impassive as a tech compiling a repair list. Luke felt his insides twist at each word.

The captain turned to him. “Standard protocol. Thank you for --”

Luke shook his head. “I’m staying with her.” 

The captain's lekku wriggled in puzzlement. "You don't need to. We have--"

"I'm staying with her."

The captain took a slight step back. "Of course."

The Twi'lek had finally reached the end of his evaluation, and after carefully shifting Mara's arms and legs, drew away, letting his Sullustan crewmate near the pod. The Sullustan knelt and pressed several buttons on the control panel at the side of it. Restraints automatically latched on along Mara's legs, arms, head and torso, a breathing mask attaching to her face. The Twi'lek checked the mask and some sensors on the side before the tech pressed a button and the pod’s sides rose, glass sliding from the top until it was entirely closed forming an egg-like shape. It began to fill with liquid. Once it was full the slab where Mara had been laying on pulled back, leaving her floating inside.

“It’s not bacta,” the tech said almost apologetically. “Well, it has a little bacta but it’s a low grade solution. More ryll than bacta.”

The captain ducked her head, lekku twitching slightly. “You’re welcome to--to wait in our crew quarters. If you wish.”

"Here is fine, thanks."

The male Twi'lek approached him hesitantly, medkit in hand. "Would you like -- “

Luke shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.” He’d been through the gauntlet enough to know medical care meant unceasing questions or at the least more unwelcome scrutiny. This was not the time. Everything of his felt minor and for whatever eventually didn’t, he had the Force.

The captain and her crew members shared a look. Luke felt their confusion, and a rising wariness. He supposed him looking like a blast victim did nothing to diminish that. His reflection on the pod's glass showed the vashing wound had reopened under all the soot and grime, most of the scrapes seemed shallow, although there was another bleeding wound at the side of his head he hadn't even taken note of. The loadlifter --

No.

Only the now.

“We’ll go into lightspeed soon,” the captain ventured. “I can have someone--”

He didn't know what she'd been about to offer, but he knew he didn't want anything but to be out of inquiring eyes. “I’ll be fine. Just need to use one of your refreshers.”

The captain had her Sullustan tech show him the way. Luke had sent the tech off soon after and returned to the holds. He did his best to keep his mind on minutiae in the hope of better ignoring the grating curiosity that piqued as made his way back. This ship was a Corellian Action V design, a more advanced model than the _Jackal_ , than the _Wild Karrde_...even that thought was too uncomfortable and he thrust it aside.

Luke took a spot by at Mara in the pod. Only her outline was visible in the milky water. He reached a little deeper towards her Force presence.

No change.

The events of the past few hours kept circling above his head like carrion birds looking for a place to perch. Much as he tried to keep his mind blank, Luke couldn't help but wonder how Karrde could have ever sent her on this job, how many others like it he’d sent her on...and then his thoughts turned to how he hadn't sensed Dunn, how he'd _forgotten_ him... 

How he’d been about to leave him to die. 

And if he truly allowed himself to dwell, the fact that Mara was there floating in the pod felt like retribution for it. That was proof of his own larger carelessness, his blindness. It was all he could do to keep from getting mired by the darkness of it, less now than it’d been on the ship, but still present, a cloying feeling of futility. He still didn't know what else he could have done. 

Several Twi'lek crew members neared, their curiosity breaking through Luke’s haze a while later. It felt like only minutes, but it must have been more. 

“We’re just out of the jump. We’re going to get her moving to the shuttle,” one of them informed him.

Luke watched as they attached the repulsors on the capsule, and began transporting it to the cargo hold of what he recognized as a T-1 shuttle. 

The crew shared more looks when he walked forward behind it, their curiosity rising in intensity, but the lack of questions probably meant that it'd been expected to a degree. The orange-skinned Twi'lek pilot at least recovered quickly and gestured him up the gangway into the passenger compartment without preamble.

He went up grudgingly. Bad enough that he felt forced to leave the pod behind. Luke would have at least liked to be the one at the controls, and he would have suggested it, but the wary faces of the surrounding crew stopped him.

 _You don't belong here_ , they seemed to say without speaking. _You couldn't even stop this. What can you do now?_

Luke ignored the feeling and strapped himself in as the pilot went through his preflight check and the shuttle lifted, flying out of the freighter.

“We’re beginning our approach,” the pilot announced after a while, and unable to take it, Luke unstrapped and ducked into the cockpit. He expected the orange of Ryloth, but what greeted him through the transparisteel was green. Lots of it.

“You should take a seat,” the pilot said without looking up. He gestured to the copilot’s chair, and Luke felt him hide his nervousness. “We’re about to enter the atmosphere.”

“This isn’t Ryloth.”

The pilot shook his head. “I was given the coordinates to Kineria.” He looked over at Luke. “The closest moon. It’s much better developed. Used to belong to a Moff way back. They wouldn't set foot planetside. Maybe they thought just breathing the natives' air would kill them.” He seemed to catch himself and fell silent. 

A greeting party awaited them in front of a large cluster of buildings of Imperial architecture. The blare of the sun made Luke blink as he walked out, scanning the various beings, their sterile whites brighter under the sun. The buildings momentarily swam in Luke's vision, the sudden humidity making it difficult to breathe for a moment. He used the Force to settle himself, sent his senses to where Mara lay.

No change.

In the next instant, Mara’s pod was whisked away, a maelstrom of activity followed. A Mon Calamari nurse came up to him asking him technical questions about the wounds, a datapad in her webbed hands. He answered them as best he could and she flitted away.

A prim Arkanian man approached him next, telling him that it was a very private facility and would he mind --

He did mind. Enough to Force shove him aside and catch up to where Mara’s capsule was a few meters away, surrounded by techs and physicians. 

No one objected to his presence after, not to him, though Luke felt their eyes as he followed them into the largest medcenter building and down the corridors. He set himself in an out-of-the-way corner and watched unseeingly as the beings went in and out of the room where they'd set up the pod, installing and checking the biomonitors, taking notes on their datapads, and consulting among themselves. Finally one of the techs hooked in a hose and the water began to drain. The pod's top glass slid open and one Twi’lek nurse pulled a curtain obscuring half of the room from view.

The Mon Calamari nurse who had spoken to him approached him. He idly wondered how much she'd been told by the captain or her crew because she offered, “She needs to be taken for an ultrasonic scrubbing for the affected area and a deeper scan. It'll take a while. You may as well get some medical attention while she’s inside." Her large eyes stopped at his forehead. "Or...clean up, rest--”

“I’ll be fine,” Luke replied. Everything could wait.

He tapped into the Force for Mara’s presence.

No change.

“You said it was a...healing trance?” the nurse asked hesitantly.

He nodded. 

“In our prelim scans it appears like heavy sedation, rather like a coma," she mused. Luke didn't respond and she continued, "But the damage from the burn is contained. She still needs to be watched and we won't be able to intervene internally until the bacta treatment stabilizes things more, but if she lived through the initial trauma it’s...it's...a good sign." She gestured to a chair at the foot of the room. "Please take a seat.”

The nurse’s words meant little in light of what he knew through the Force, and her attempts at comfort meant even less, but he did as she asked, reaching again for a feel for Mara's condition where she lay, rooms away.

No change. 

Food might have been offered to him at one point. Lodgings. Luke waved them all off, he was too wound up to eat, much less anything else. It was impossible that things could deteriorate, but if they did as they’d had...if they did, he didn’t want to wake up to apologies from strangers, or worse, to nothing. 

Because there was no connection at all between them. 

Mara would just be gone.

So Luke waited.

He waited for Karrde’s comm, too. The memory of Karrde carrying Mara’s prone body at the Emperor’s throne room in Mt. Tantiss replayed itself over and over. How much time had passed? Surely enough for Karrde to comm him. Why wasn’t he here? It was _the least_ he could do after all this...

He stretched his senses to Mara still some rooms away, surrounded by presences.

No change.

Luke’s comm, long silenced, blinked various numbers. He made himself check, none of them were unidentified. 

A while later Mara was pushed back into the room. She’d finally been put in a real bacta tank. The tech pressed a few buttons and the tank used its repulsors to bring itself to a fully vertical position 

It was hard to tell time in the enviro controls of the medcenter, there were no windows, but it couldn’t have been that long, maybe a day maybe more that he sat staring at Mara’s masked face as she floated in the tank, thinking that the bacta had to be doing its work, the bruises’ discoloration seemed slightly less, the cuts were less garish in the murky blue of the water. It wasn't just him, it _was_. It had to be. Finally, he sensed some shift and something inside him eased up. 

Fractionally. 

Some time after that --

“You’re scaring the medcenter staff, Skywalker.” 

Luke shifted away his gaze from Mara's tank and blinked. 

Karrde.

As he met Karrde’s eyes something tightened within him. Luke had a sudden urge to stand up and smash his fist against the man’s face.

It caught him off guard and he lowered his gaze, launching into a calming technique.

Name it. Hold it in your grasp...then let it go.

I’m angry, he thought dully. It had nothing to do with Karrde, and everything to do with not being able to do anything...his eyes drifted back to Mara's tank, but watch everything fall apart.

“They tell me you haven’t eaten or slept.”

Innumerable accusatory statements flared at the tip of his tongue. 

Luke said, instead, “You just got in?” 

“We took to hyperspace the moment we got Mara’s hail. Luckily we were already in the Outer Rim.” Karrde paused. “You should probably answer your comm. NRI is very concerned. As is the Councilor.”

Leia. Luke wasn’t surprised Karrde knew about NRI either. “I’ll contact them soon.”

“I’ll happily give you a ride with one of my people back to the Core. It’ll be faster than whatever the New Republic could send for you.”

He shook his head. The idea of spending a week surrounded by Karrde's people seemed unbearable. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

Karrde didn’t betray anything at that other than a deepening sense of concern. He looked over at Mara’s tank. After a long moment he turned back to Luke. “Will you discuss what happened or...” He let his voice trail off.

Luke’s eyes flickered up to him. Surely, Karrde had been told as much as he himself had told Karrde’s people, which admittedly wasn't a lot. He didn’t doubt Karrde already had a working theory though.

He could keep it.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Karrde straightened up and Luke realized it’d come out sharper than he’d intended, and he eased up his tone. “She killed them. One of them lived long enough to shoot back.”

Karrde appeared to digest this for a moment.

Luke closed his eyes. He was slipping on thin ice, feeling the cracks begin to form. She'd killed all except one. 

The one he'd killed.

“She should have _never_ been there,” Luke found himself saying, “It was a blasted hit job. Why would you send your second for a hit job? You’re a _smuggler_. She...”

Karrde clasped his hands in front of him, expression unreadable, but Luke could see it etched in his shoulders. _My business is none of your concern._ But he discerned something heavy in Karrde’s sense. Troubled.

Good. Luke narrowed his eyes at him and something gave. “I hope it was worth it.”

Karrde might have flinched, but Luke wasn’t sure. He'd been turning away to look at Mara’s tank. 

“They tell me that," Karrde began after a few moments of tense silence, "she’s in some sort of trance.”

“A Jedi trance, yes.”

“And I’d imagine it will wear off, presumably, when she’s healed?”

"Yes." It was obvious where Karrde was going with it even before he continued, even from the coldness gathering in Karrde's sense.

"She won't need to be...taken out of it?"

Luke ran out of patience. “Just say it. You want me to leave.”

“I think there might be a problem,” Karrde said with his usual care. “These are better dealt with in-house.”

It left Luke through clenched teeth. “A problem.”

Karrde didn’t turn away from Mara’s tank. “Mara has done a couple of jobs similar to this before when she first joined the organization. They didn’t take her two weeks.” He stopped and Luke wondered if he would justify it.

He didn't. 

“There were reports of an... incident at the Drenos supply depot. An incident in full view of bystanders, calling the attention of the authorities. Nothing that could be linked but...” Karrde’s voice became a bit strained. 

“That is unlike Mara,” he concluded. “And to come back in this shape -- two blaster wounds, a knife wound, minor blast injuries and so on...from dealing with common pirates?" Luke sensed a flash of fury that quickly disappeared into a growing wariness. "Then there’s you haunting her bedside, in a manner of speaking. I don’t remember that last time, and those, we might agree, were more serious circumstances...”

Luke stood up. “You don’t think I had anything--”

“I don’t know _what_ to think, Skywalker,” Karrde interrupted sharply, finally turning back towards him. “I’m also hoping you can enlighten me as to why my operatives reported being tasked by Mara to conduct a vashing on you.”

Luke shifted his gaze away.

“And if you won’t, then I’m hoping she will.” Karrde’s voice returned to its previous placidity, gaze back on Mara’s tank. “And I think the further you are, the more likely she is to do so -- when she recovers -- and there, we can address the problem.”

Luke shook his head. “She should have never been sent to do this.”

“They tell me she’s in stable condition.”

“I’m not leaving until she's out of that tank.”

Karrde crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head, that apprehension glaring in his sense. “Will she want to see you?”

The breath whooshed out of his lungs and Karrde was not a man to miss it, hard as Luke tried to cover the slip. At any other moment when he was well rested, when his emotions hadn’t been at a fevered pitch, he wouldn’t have given himself so easily.

Karrde’s shoulders rolled back slightly, some of his tension dissipating, fading into the troubled concern he'd initially felt.

“Thank you for bringing her back, Skywalker.” An air of finality lay over the words. “We’ll take it from here. If you change your mind about a ride to the Core, you have my contact information. It’s the least we can do.”

Luke felt his expression darken. Let her tell him herself once she could. Once she was fine. He shouldn’t have contacted Karrde at all. _He_ was responsible--

But she _was_ fine, a thought-short circuited the wasp’s nest of anger. As much as she could be, Karrde’s people were seeing to that, Karrde himself...he broke the thought. That couldn't be why he was compelled to stay. 

Something ached within him. 

_Will she want to see you_?

She wouldn’t. Luke knew she wouldn’t. He squeezed his eyes shut.

... _that’s_ why he wanted to stay.

He wanted to make her answer for it. For everything.

A petty vengeance. It was the worst thing yet to face. That sudden awareness made him cognizant of the heaviness in his limbs, hollow pang in his stomach, he could feel the incipient crash looming in the distance.

It was over. There was nothing to be gained from staying when everything had become so poisoned. It could only make things worse. 

A memory surfaced, his uncle standing beside him, a slugthrower round in his calloused hand. 

_“It’s not necessarily getting hit that’s the problem. It’s the exit wound. Nasty stuff.”_

Karrde was still staring at Mara’s tank.

He should say something, to take care of her perhaps, but Luke was almost certain that if he opened his mouth, he’d say, _this is your fault_ instead. It burned in him. That wouldn’t be what he meant at all. Whatever satisfaction it'd bring would be empty and senseless. He'd had enough of senselessness.

Luke said nothing.

He exited the room forcing himself not to give one last look to Mara in the tank, busied himself flicking off the silence on his comm. 

The corridors of the medcenter blurred around him, the shapes of the personnel equally indistinct. He thought he was walking, but he felt as if he were stumbling. With every step he was becoming more and more aware of everything that hurt.

He needed to stop, figure out how to get back... Luke closed his eyes and breathed in over the scream trapped in his chest. Too much was coming back too fast. 

Luke swayed a little and forced himself to stop. An orange-skinned Twi’lek male dressed in medical whites approached and he barely heard his soft spoken words, just shook his head vigorously. With a worried look, the Twi’lek departed.

Luke summoned energy to leave the building before the Twi'lek could return, finding a somewhat secluded spot between it and the one next to it away from prying eyes. He leaned back heavily against the walls. Like feeling rushing into one’s limbs after numbness wore off, pain felt white and sharp. He closed his eyes trying to breathe. Probably had a cracked rib or something. He’d trance himself as soon as he could.

As if from a distance he realized, his comm was sounding. It stopped and started again. An interminable moment later, it stopped.

Then it started again.

Luke took it out and looked out at the code.

He opened the line.

“Luke! Han and I have been trying to reach you for days!” Leia’s voice speeded through the line. “Are you okay? NRI said -- they said that the ship you were on -- that it was destroyed or self-destructed and I--I knew you weren’t on it but-- but they didn’t know where you were. We just heard from Karrde’s people you’re in the Ryloth system...Luke? Luke?”

“I’m here,” he breathed out. “I’m here. A moon. One of Ryloth's. Kineria.”

Leia’s voice went silent and he looked up to the swath of trees in the distance, feeling slightly overwhelmed at the stretch of space around him, the white of the permacrete of the medcenter complex. The brightness of the sun. Too much too fast. 

He shut his eyes tight. Don’t ask me if I’m okay again. Don’t.

“I’ve already messaged several of our contacts in Lessu,” Leia named Ryloth’s capital city, her voice growing clipped. “Just get yourself to the nearest spaceport. I’ll send you the information.”

“Leia...” He could do it himself, he _should_ do it himself, but all he said was, “NRI--”

“They can wait until you’re back to brief you. Whatever they sent you for, it’s over.”

He stayed silent.

“Luke? Listen to me, it’s over.”

He closed his eyes. Leia was right. 

Her voice softened. “Come home, Luke.”


	24. Epilogue - Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The empty universe, where is it now? Alone are you...and no one your master. Each instant the universe annihilates itself, and starts again...Choose, and start again!”  
> -Sean Stewart, _Dark Rendezvous_

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

The grounds of the Imperial Gardens were still closed to the public after the kidnapping attempt on Organa Solo’s children. Security around the Palace in general was still at a peak, despite the end of the Thrawn campaign, and not likely to lessen soon. 

That didn't make much difference to Mara. For every one path she knew through the hidden passages, she knew several above ground. The labyrinth of the Imperial Palace had been built to be vulnerable by design. One just needed to know where to look.

Mara tweaked her voluminous black headscarf under one of the ch'hala trees as she stretched out with the Force, ignoring that being back at the Imperial Palace, and the Gardens, to be specific, felt as revolting as she'd thought it would. Instead she concentrated on looking for one presence. Even without the Force, he wouldn’t be hard to pick out. Only three or four beings milled about, mostly workers relaxing before their evening shifts. The work day was done. 

Skywalker knew she was here already. 

Mara felt a steady drum of anxiety in her pulse that she tried to override with reason. She’d thought of this moment for months, ran it through her mind that if she’d felt anything untoward, she’d abandon the effort.

It was the least she could do.

But if Skywalker wanted her gone, there was no indication of it through the Force. He wasn’t giving anything away, but he took a seat at one of the benches scattered throughout, new lightsaber conspicuous at his belt, a glint of silver that stood out from his Jedi blacks. The uniform.

This didn’t surprise her. She’d never expected him to go back to using the one she’d given back, not with the added weight of more bad memories.

That Skywalker had taken a seat there seemed enough invitation, and she gave another brief scan, another fix to her headscarf, smoothing down her high-necked and long-sleeved black gown. After making sure the hood of her cloak obscured her face, she stepped away from the tree’s shadow and onto the path that lead to the bench. The smell of the lula blossoms made her slightly nauseous, but she put it out of her mind. She doubted she'd have to bear it for long.

A light breeze wafted through the gardens, playing along the folds of her scarf, the afternoon sun mild over the landscape, but she felt sweat at her temples, beading at the small of her back as she made her way over to the bench, The package in her other hand under her cloak felt indescribably heavy. 

She sat primly, leaving a decent amount of space between them, hardly daring to look at him. Even though she felt the necessity of this moment in her bones, a part of her wanted nothing more than to turn and run. This was yet another mistake in a long list, a voice hissed in panic. Why risk the little left to salvage? If Karrde got angry enough he might throw her out. She’d lose everything.

Mara shut the voice down and steeled herself with a breath. She'd kept up with the HoloNews these past weeks for this reason. It was how she'd found out about the media circus around Bal Indall, a human who'd been found to be in cahoots with various underground slaver groups, yet worked as an administrator for the Galactic Relief Guild, a nonprofit refugee relocation organization. Rumors were that this was just the beginning of a larger crackdown against corruption and sentient trafficking facilitated by some information that the NRI had come across. The HoloNews was also how she'd found out -- almost as an afterthought in a lower chyron on her datapad's screen -- that the Senate had voted to pass a resolution that gave official New Republic backing for a future Jedi academy. She'd thought, there it was. Her opening.

“Congratulations on the vote,” she began quietly. “I’m sure--”

“You didn’t come here to tell me that,” Skywalker interrupted flatly.

Mara lifted her head, the abruptness shocking her a little. Stupidly. She lowered her head again, just as quickly. She should have expected that reaction. She clenched her hand beside her.

“No body paint this time,” he noted. 

“I didn’t have the time,” she muttered, looking ahead towards the outline of the Coruscant skyline in the horizon. “Just the tattoos took forever.”

“You didn’t need so many.”

Mara narrowed her eyes. Mentioning the academy got a brush off, but somehow criticizing her disguise was fine? She turned her head to look at Skywalker.

He had folded his hands, eyes on the distant skyline. “Mirialans use facial tattoos as markings of accomplishments.”

She stiffened, dropped her gaze to her curled her hands in her lap. This was her trade. How dare he? The thought sent a stab of pain through her. Had been. 

Her voice was soft when she spoke, “Less tattoos would make people wonder what this unaccomplished Mirialan was doing in the halls of the Imperial Palace.”

“I was under the impression you didn’t need to walk the halls of the Palace.”

Mara flinched. This was not as horrible as she’d expected.

It was worse.

She forced out, “I’d rather not," she bit her lip, “I’d rather not be here at all.” 

How long had it taken her to be able to even say that? 

“Well, then,” Skywalker continued, “let’s make this quick -- you have something that belongs to me, right?”

Mara nodded, removing the package from her cloak and placing it beside her. Would he open it right here? She wasn’t sure she could bear it if he did. She scrunched her eyes shut. She’d make herself. 

Sometimes you just had to get through things.

Skywalker made no move to take it and the seconds ticked by, the roiling in her insides getting worse. She tried to distract herself wondering about the design of his new weapon, which was at his other side. Hilts were intricately designed things. To her eye, no less unique than the crystal that Jedi attuned to themselves through the Force. The difference was that the hilt was attuned through the wielder’s hands. 

The feel of a hilt was something Mara had considered at length over her stay at Kineria Medical Center. The hilt of Skywalker's own lightsaber had been by her bedside after she’d gained full lucidity, the crystal, of course, taken away, a fact she didn’t like to think about. It was different from the lightsaber he’d given her after Wayland, lighter, slimmer, the parts like anything one would find at a basic droid shop. 

Karrde had said she’d come to asking for the lightsaber ‘insistently’. She had no memory of doing so, but she’d taken him at his word, and tried not to wonder what he'd meant, or what else she might have said while drifting in and out of consciousness. It was one of the few personal items allowed to her those blurry first weeks when her head and her whole self had barely felt her own, too dulled by a bevy of medications. Her minder called it a transitional object.

As her thumb slid across the slim bar that separated the emitter from the rest, as it drifted over the grooves of the blade’s handgrip again and again, she’d thought about recognition not by sight nor by sense but by touch, by the intimate way the hand could know the length of the rear grip, the way it could anticipate the raise of the throttle-style activator, the protrusion of the safety. The weight and heft of a blade hilt was unlike any other. This, too, was a result of the wielder’s careful selection of each constituent part. 

She wasn’t sure Force users thought about that in so many words, focused as they were on the Force imbued crystal inside. The crystal had been returned personally to her in a sealed synth bag by Karrde later when she’d been released, around the time when he’d brought her the revised contract. He hadn’t asked any questions about it. Perhaps he thought it was the same as the original lightsaber Skywalker had given her. Karrde had seen it once or twice.

How different was the new lightsaber at Skywalker's belt from the one she’d taken? Stolen.

He no longer needed it. That was some consolation.

Sometimes you needed to keep things for yourself. 

Mara turned her gaze to her hands, rubbing a finger over her thumbnail. What had he done with the old one? Stored it away for a future apprentice? Disassembled it, so the heart of the blade could be transferred to a new vessel?

Mara’s eyes moved over the package. She should feel pleased that she’d gotten this far, but there was just a wringing feeling behind her sternum. She’d expected nothing and she was getting it.

Skywalker shifted, placing his hands at either side of him on the bench, leaning slightly forward and she dared raise her eyes to look at his face in profile. He was still looking off to the distance, his hair just slightly shorter than when she’d seen him last, lighter in the afternoon sun, jawline just as she remembered, and the pressure in her chest transformed into a full fledged _hurt_ that traveled up to her throat. 

She lowered her gaze again. “I--I--”

“I thought you’d send it via courier droid.”

Her head snapped up again and the swift flash of indignation strengthened her enough to meet his gaze head on. 

“I’m many things, Skywalker, but a coward isn’t one of them.”

“Really,” he said in the same expressionless tone as before.

Mara clenched her jaw. “I’m here to apologize,” she said firmly, words coming out clipped despite all her practice. “I won’t excuse what happened. All I did. I regret it. I would change it if I could. I’m sorry. For everything.”

She wanted to stand up and leave, but that would be too easy. If Skywalker wanted to hold her feet to the fire, it was his right. He’d earned it. 

He had turned back to staring in front of him. “Is Karrde still sending you out for hit jobs?”

Mara felt her spine lock. Surely, he didn't really think so if he was broaching it this bluntly. She shook her head. There was a lot she could say. For one, the few similar jobs she had done for Karrde in the past didn’t technically qualify. Her targets had been active threats to Karrde. His people.

Skywalker wouldn’t understand.

She finally said, “That job I--I chose it. I...I volunteered.”

“He must have been overjoyed to have your skillset in play,” he retorted, an edge to his voice.

Mara grimaced. “It’s not...like that.” She’d thought he knew. 

Skywalker turned to her and his composure broke, eyes hard. “How?” 

“Karrde’s never known the details of what I did...before.”

Just like that, Skywalker’s expression was replaced by calm. He switched the subject. “I do wish you both had been clearer about the little regard you had for the Smuggler’s Alliance.”

Irritation shot through her. “Little regard?”

“You had the position for what? A month and a half? Less?”

She felt her lips tighten into a line. This was petty and they both knew it. “I selected Prekur myself as soon as I was able to. He has more experience dealing with bureaucracies. His record thus far is a testament to that fact. Shipping is thriving and it’s because of us.”

He was silent for a few beats and she knew she’d scored a point. “Didn’t think you cared much to keep tabs on it.”

She paused fractionally, and what the hell, “I deal with flimsiplast trails now.”

Skywalker’s head snapped in her direction. “What?”

Mara raised her chin. “I’m in a...probationary period.” 

Curiosity crossed Skywalker’s face, intensifying his gaze on her. “Because of Drenos?”

That was certainly part of it. A big part. She nodded and fiddled with the fold on her skirt.

She didn’t much care at this point, but it was a curiosity. “You didn’t tell--”

Skywalker’s response was a swift “No.”

So Karrde had put the pieces together by himself.

“He was very...unhappy with the job.” She let out a quiet laugh. “He wasn’t so generous this time with the medcenter debt. It’s cheaper than it would have been here, at least. Few years and I’ll be done, I expect.”

“He’s making you pay the medcenter?”

“Karrde took the bill.” She shook her head. “It’s all a farce. Our people own that medcenter. It’s just...penance, I suppose. Squeeze credits and sentients behave.”

Skywalker let a few beats pass before he asked,“Even you?”

Mara thought for a moment, but it was too complicated to try to figure out what he meant, to try to explain the mess with Karrde, the new contract. In the end it was just easier to say, “Even me.”

Skywalker shifted again and she had the vague sense of him being angry, although she couldn’t imagine why. On the contrary, she thought the thought of her brought to this would feel, if anything, like just deserts. Once it would have been too much to bear to be reduced to this, but somewhere in that Kineria medcenter she’d discovered grace. _That's_ what surfacing post Wayland had meant, it'd just been clouded by so much. Then and now it had some relation with Skywalker sitting next to her, posture rigid as if he expected a blow.

It was more than that too.

“Skywalker...” Now that she was finally here, it was impossible that she wouldn’t ask. “Did you...did you mean it? What you said on the ship.” 

Her memories of the _Jackal_ had ended up hazy and nightmarish, something that had happened to someone else. Looking in on it felt like watching herself plummet down a chasm. It was just as well Karrde barred her from travel until further notice. Stepping into the _Wild Karrde_ might feel just like this. Worse.

Skywalker looked away. “I said a lot on that ship. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

More penance. She lowered her head, wringing her hands in her skirt, but it was too much, and the words were too difficult to find.

That was part of the nightmare, too, all she’d flung away in a blood-soaked haze. Sometimes the excuses caught in her throat. _It wasn’t me. I was not myself_. Weakness.

And maybe Skywalker had just been kind throughout it all. For all the good it did him.

Mara forced herself to look up at him. 

“I need to know if it was true,” she whispered to his mask of Jedi calm.

“Why?” He didn't wait for her to answer and turned away. “Truths are often bound up with situations. Took me a while to learn that.”

Mara scrunched her face at him in dismay, tamping down on her impulse to leave. She didn’t come here, risk everything for empty Jedi philosophizing.

But she’d set herself up for this, hadn’t she? The thought gave her pause. This was a form of penance too.

“We hardly remain the same and if we’re not unchangeable ourselves--”

“I understand,” she said folding her hands and regretted the interruption. If he didn’t want to answer that was fine. She could think it cowardly on his part, but it was his right. Grace, she reminded herself. She had a long way to go. 

“Ultimately, what’s true or not matters less than what we decide to make true for ourselves.”

She’d stopped listening, a prickle at her neck leading to her eyes raking across the gardens.

Time was up.

Mara jerked to her feet, senses trained on the new presence.

Skywalker was on his feet too. “Left back entrance. Human.” His voice had gathered urgency. “Why is someone following you, Mara?”

She frowned. She thought she’d have more time than this. “I have to go.”

“Who?” he asked sharply.

Mara briefly debated it. It wasn’t Skywalker’s business. “Karrde and his people have invested considerable time and resources in me. Too much,” she let her lips lift in an ironic smile, “for me to kriff it up.” 

And there, she felt the snap of anger like a whipcrack before Skywalker contained it. 

“Why?”

She shrugged, hiding her bafflement at the response. “He believes in safeguarding his investments, I suppose.” Her tail hadn’t recognized her. She still needed to start going before whoever it was figured it out.

“That’s not what I was asking.” Skywalker’s mask of impassiveness had vanished. Something dangerous flitted through his features. “He wouldn’t--”

“No!” Mara brought her voice back to a normal tone. She didn’t know what he’d been about to say, but just his tone of it made it beyond contemplation. “No. He just wants to make sure I don’t--” It was too difficult to explain, and she didn’t have enough time so she broke off, “I’m just paying my debts, Skywalker. No more, no less.” She scoffed. “ _That’s_ the truth from where I’m standing.” 

Her tail was looking in Skywalker's direction. She might need to get into the passages to avoid notice. A tendril of cold went through her. Blast it.

This was it then. She met Skywalker’s eyes.

He was staring at her like at any minute he’d reach for her. He wouldn’t, she knew. Not anymore.

He learned, Mara thought, the lump back in her throat. I taught that to him. 

There was more in his gaze though; he looked at her if she were a ghost, as if she’d come back when he didn’t expect her to. At least, Mara thought, she’d retained her capacity to surprise, to be something different than he'd assumed, if only for a moment.

That was worth it, Mara decided. That was more than she’d ever expected.

“Good luck with the academy,” Mara whispered and began her walk. To distract from the asphyxiating feeling in her chest she went over what was next. She’d get back to the palace, lose the disguise head towards her stolen Headhunter and be out of Coruscant by early evening, be back at Kineria by the end of the week. 

The thought of Karrde nagged, but she repeated to herself the same she’d had on her way here. She’d almost thrown _herself_ away just to show she could and for some reason she was still here. That meant something. 

The knowledge that you couldn’t undo anything had been too overwhelming once, but absolution wasn't the point. The meaning was in the asking, _knowing_ there was no way to go back -- giving the broken pieces their due out of what they could have been. 

What she could have been.

That there had been something before the lies. Under them.

And if there was any hope to become something else, it _started_ backtracking from here. From what she’d done to Skywalker. To herself. And someday...from what had been done to her...here, and what she’d done out there.

Karrde would have to understand. She wouldn’t disregard the terms of his contract lightly. 

Second chances didn’t mean anything if you couldn’t face what you’d done. Someday she'd be able to face more.

“Mara,” Skywalker’s call interrupted her thoughts a few paces behind her, still standing in front of the bench when she turned. The glare of the sun obscured his face. “Did you keep the scar you wanted?”

Mara canted her head. How could he remember? It'd been a trivial conversation. Another obfuscation with just the right degree of truth.

She supposed he could imagine the answer. The delay in bacta treatment coupled with the lower grade solution found in much of the galaxy outside the Core left nothing like her other scar. This one was a ropey skein that covered a portion of the lower right quadrant of her back. Even with the trance, she'd had months of surgery and bacta dunks to stitch up bit by bit the hole that blaster bolt had almost punched through the side of her middle. In the Core she supposed those kinds of reconstructions would take about a couple of weeks to a month, but she hadn't ended up in the Core. Even with Karrde’s resources in Kineria, it’d been months of it. In any case, a little more left towards her spine and there’d been no sense in stitching, Core or Outer Rim, Force or no Force. She was still miraculously organic to boot.

The rehab and minder sessions came after. The latter kept coming until the foreseeable future, as Karrde phrased it, part of the new contract. 

Post the bacta, the wound itched agonizingly for weeks despite the cocktail of meds they’d pumped into her system. Sometimes it'd been hard to sleep. Sometimes it still was despite the lightsaber. Her minder said it was psychosomatic. They'd switched the meds around for a while.

None of them made the scar itch any less. Eventually, they'd gotten her off them.

Skywalker was waiting for a response, and she thought he'd retained his own ability to surprise too.

She nodded, and summoned a small smile. “I did.”

Mara turned back, settled her shoulders, and strode back into the Palace.

\--

Later that evening, Luke drew forward to the box. He still had little desire to deal with it after Mara had left, barely remembered bringing it back to his apartment and placing it on his desk, in fact.

Seeing her again had felt like stycline on past wounds, a reminder they’d never really closed. That was reason enough to set the box aside to deal with once he felt better settled. 

But perhaps closure would feel like his old lightsaber back in his hand. The other, his father's, he'd whisked away to the back of some drawer as soon as he'd constructed himself his new blade. As much as he'd tried, it never felt right at his belt after Kineria, too weighed down by the echoes of so much that remained unaddressed.

Luke forced his attention fully onto the box, breaking its seal, gently prying the outer flap from the adhesive, opening it slowly. He took a deep breath and pulled up the inner flap, thinking the box was too small and light. It could contain an address to a safe where she’d left it given all the cloak and dagger she’d gone through.

He wasn’t going to think about that right now. Nor the swell of feeling when he saw her, even if under pious Mirialan costume, her face marked up by those fake hexagonal figures packed densely across her cheeks, down her forehead and up her chin, thicker than any Mirialan he'd seen, leaving only her eyes recognizable. She even started off with meek mimicry in accordance to it, but by the end she’d been the same Mara of measures and countermeasures. 

An irrational part of him resented her for it. He hadn't expected to see her this soon, hadn't expected her to close things up between them so quickly. It was hours later that he'd felt able to reflect on it and truly grasp what seeing her meant; Mara had pieced herself back up -- at least enough to return the lightsaber despite the mire of anxiety and longing that permeated her sense. That this was the woman she was at the root of it, all those disguises and defense mechanisms aside.

And then he thought with shame, he hadn't handled it well at all.

Luke leaned forward to look into the box’s interior. A small crystal glittered at the bottom. He lifted it with the Force onto his palm, the crystal glowing a bright green in recognition.

His lightsaber’s focusing crystal.

He furrowed his brow, peering more deeply into the box.

That was all the box contained.

Luke stared at the crystal, then at the now empty box. Why? An old mantra went through his mind, recited by Ben ages ago, then Yoda not that much long after. He’d seen it referenced in several texts: _The crystal is the heart of the blade..._

The thought brought back feelings the months had done little to dissipate. They thrummed under the anger and bitterness, no matter how much he wanted them to go away, sustaining themselves on the simple fact that he _just didn’t know_. 

He reached for the crystal and put it back in the box wishing it didn't call to mind her eyes, wishing he could shove his feelings in with it too. Close the flaps. Shut them up.

Not everything Mara had said had been a lie.

Luke moved away from the desk, trying not to let the feelings swallow him whole, not to let them interweave itself with the memory of his missing lightsaber. He’d constructed that one himself from the wreckage of broken dreams and dashed hopes, the shattered image of his father, his own failure to save Han. 

That had been different. He couldn’t think otherwise. That was why he'd put the old one out of sight. Sometimes things didn't come back. You had to let them go.

There was no use wondering what had happened to the rest of his lightsaber. Mara could have discarded it like the rest he'd offered her. If that was the cost of her rebuilding herself again, then he should be gracious and make his peace with that. 

_"Did you...did you mean it? What you said on the ship."_

All that longing he'd felt was nostalgia on her part, unsurprising given what she'd let slip about her new life, consequences that had nothing to do with him.

Mara simply couldn’t mean the crystal that way. That wasn’t how she saw the world. He knew that. More likely she thought the crystal was the only part of value, and a debt to be repaid. There was little point in dwelling on the matter. It should go into the drawer, beside his father's blade.

Luke left the box on the table, going to the kitchen, a creeping disquiet coming over him. The treatises he’d spent the most time on as of late mentioned how at times justice was best served by knowing when to fold one’s hands. There was wisdom in recognizing that sometimes there was nothing to be done. 

Water sloshed out of the glass as he poured it, but he barely noticed. He wasn’t thinking about justice. He was thinking of the box, the broken seal, the crystal -- which was _only_ a fragment -- all of it reducing to the overwhelming need to know where the rest of his lightsaber was. He forced the feeling back bit by bit, shutting his eyes. He’d been a fool to hope once.

And yet, hadn’t it been that he’d been blinded as to what he'd really hoped through it all?

Name it, Luke thought, drawing a deep breath. Name it and hold it. Only then could you let it go.

Luke opened his eyes. He didn’t _want_ to let it go. He frowned and pushed the glass aside.

Mara’s crooked smile at the Gardens floated up in his memory. She’d always smiled like it pained her to do so, maybe that had always been a small gesture of defiance to all that hurt. It may have been her truest smile after all. Luke didn’t know either.

But he’d never been good at simply folding his hands.

 

 

end.

[ final credits ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iypesodZF3E)

 

 

 

A/N: 

*screaming* It’s done done done. Everyone hates final notes and like a fic has to stand for itself blah blah but IT’S DONE DONE DONE and the fact that it is owes to a bunch of people who gave me their time. So I want to thank them all here:

First this massive undertaking wouldn’t have been possible without Jaded who was my sounding board, hand holder and critical first reader. She’s all rebelcaptain and yet she was with me start to finish. Also this project started as lighthearted fare and when it veered into dark she was like YEAH BRING IT. How is that a gift for you becomes a gift for me, gurl? You just provided me an excuse to write the fic, I’ve always wanted to write, same brain. So Jaded, this Bud’s for us.

My heartfelt thanks to Celina who hears me whine incessantly and gave me ample opportunities to unload about Mara the Dumpster Fire (celina was INTEGRAL to the ship snooping sequence of ch6-7 "hey 'ricochet' what if something goes wrong?"). 

KLC, thanks for giving me wonderful conversation about process and Luke’s characterization -- the Byss updates gave me liiiiife and I’m glad you made it through despite how dark and objectionable this got. 

Jedi Jedi Jedi, you know every fic writer dreams of a reader like you, right? Our conversations have been incredibly animating and thought provoking. They are also a hazard since I always leave with like 10000000 plot bunnies I won’t get to. You need to get on tumblr so I can monopolize your time. 

Threadsketch was another victim of my tumblr whining who cheered for my Justice Garbage Queen Mara and also gave me permission to be as mean as I wanted to. Sometimes you need someone to be like do you, brah.

To everyone who made it through and left encouragement of any sort, thank you! It was incredibly sustaining for me. I have a soft spot for readers whose names I recognize and who give what I write a chance despite not knowing where I’ll take it. 

I don't have any plans for a sequel, because this is the story I wanted to tell as it stands (blah blah never say never disclaimer). I like moments where things are riiiiight at the cusp and if there's anything that should be communicated through Ricochet it is that when there's enough momentum and enough volatility, just a *spark* can make big things happen. So here we are. Thanks for reading!


End file.
